The Shadow of the Daleks (sequel to The Resurrection of Evil)
by calliarcale
Summary: Methos unwisely accepted the Doctor's offer of a lift back to Seacouver - but the TARDIS has been damaged in a Quickening, so they end up way off course: on the planet Riga 3, 2,000 years into the future. It should be uninhabited . . . but it's not. And the Daleks are interested. In the Whoniverse, this takes place during the Dalek/Movellan Wars.
1. Episode 1

_This is a sequel to "Masque of the Baron", "Minnehaha Falls", and "Resurrection of Evil". It takes place almost immediately after "Resurrection of Evil". From a Doctor Who perspective, it takes place right after the 1996 movie starring Paul McGann. From a Highlander perspective, it's somewhere between "Comes a Horseman/Revelations 6:8" and "Indiscretions"._

 **EPISODE ONE: Prophecy**

* * *

The wind whispered gently through the silver grasses, sending shimmering ripples across the prairie that rode endlessly on above the Place of Light. The wind whispered also among the standing stones, whistled past the glassy fragments that stuck out of the earth. If anyone had been there to listen, it might have sounded like voices.

A stream wound around the Place of Light, cutting a ravine in the rich soil of the silver grassland. A deep bend in the stream had left a wide, flat space, covered with silt. This is where the Place of Light was. Nothing would grow here, although the water was good to drink, and the soil rich with nutrients. No tallgrass poked up between the translucent fragments embedded deep in the soil. None of the dry prairie brush would blemish the perfect soil. In the wintertime, this would be covered with a thick snowcover, but even the migratory beasts called snoweaters would not touch that snow. Nor would the fat greenbirds of summer roost upon this land. It was inviolate.

Inviolate save for a little boy, who sat motionless in the very center.

Only the Tolloc came to this place, and the boy was a Tolloc boy. Only the Tolloc felt welcome in the Place of Light. And only they knew why no other creature, plant or animal, would ever rest for more than a few minutes in this place. But if anyone ever asked why, the Tolloc would only smile.

* * *

"Six years," shouted Savrek, pounding his fist on the end-table in frustration. "Six years in this godforsaken wilderness, with nothing to show for it!"

Vorna chuckled quietly, but kept her comments to herself as she gazed out the window of her quarters at the endless grasslands of Riga 3. The base was sturdy and kept out the perpetual winds of the flatlands, but the sight of the rippling grasses moved Vorna almost as much as the wind itself.

"I heard that," said Savrek, not even bothering to keep the accusation out of his voice. He was eighteen years Vorna's junior, and his impatience amused her. So typical of the young. Vorna didn't bother to remind herself that she was once like that too, because she hadn't been. She had always been easygoing, calm, and liable to consider things for a long time before making any major decisions. That was why she had survived on the team for so long. No hasty conclusions.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" she asked, turning to face Savrek.

He frowned, obviously frustrated, but dropped his voice to a reasonable level. "We've spent six years cataloging the Tolloc - their culture, their religion, their physiognomy... We've even recorded their average shoe size! And for what? We're no closer to the project goal."

"Patience," said Vorna. "It takes time."

"Time, nothing! They've got more psychic power than a whole city of telepaths. They store data just the way Leader Kallan said they would. But in six years, we've come no closer to accessing it..." Finally Savrek gave up and threw his hands in the air. "I..." In one motion, he collapsed suddenly into one of the comfortable chairs with a deep, shuddering sigh.

Vorna sat down next to him. "Look, I know it's frustrating, Savrek, but these things do take time." She pressed a button on the end table beside her. A drink materialized on the surface. "Here." She handed it to Savrek. "Relax. The project was badly designed, I know. But Leader Kallan does things his own way. If we want to accomplish our task, we're going to have to convince him first. And if you lose your patience, it's not going to happen."

Savrek glared at her. "That's easy for you to say, Vorna. You aren't expected back at University in eighteen months."

"I know," said Vorna. "But you haven't worked with the customers before. They're very methodical until they think something's gone wrong. Do you have any idea what would happen if we make them think we're deviating from the task plan?"

"Yeah," said Savrek. "Communicator Tosk made that pretty clear."

"That's why we have to do this gently," said Vorna. "Trust in their system."

Savrek sighed. "Gently isn't going to work with Kallan. Not this time. If he screws up one more time, I'm contacting the customers. Let them know that the product won't be ready on time."

Vorna shook her head sadly. "Contacting the customers won't work, Savrek. It'll only make Kallan angry. And I happen to know you can't trust the Daleks."

* * *

The pervasive background hum of the TARDIS was really starting to annoy Methos. Perhaps the Doctor found it soothing, but he certainly didn't. Having missed his plane flight to Seacouver due to the untimely arrival of the Doctor, he was still a little miffed at having to travel by TARDIS rather than by flying the friendly skies.

Not that there was anything wrong with the TARDIS. On the contrary, the transdimensional spacecraft was far more comfortable than an old DC-9. And probably much safer. Nevertheless, Methos felt that there was something fundamentally wrong with entrusting oneself to a semi-sentient time machine that was an artifact of an ancient, alien civilization.

Maybe it was because he was Immortal and was having difficulty adapting to the fact of a technology which was actually older than he was. Or perhaps it was the way the Doctor spoke of the TARDIS, almost as if it were a living creature. Or perhaps it was the peculiar and unshakable feeling that he was being watched. A ghost-like sensation, almost like another Immortal, but not strong enough for him to be sure of it. Methos blamed it on the aggravating background hum.

Whatever his qualms about the TARDIS, it was certainly a beautiful ship, with a level of character one never saw from an aircraft. Not even the ludicrous 747 in the film "Austin Powers" had as much character.

Inside the TARDIS, the very air had an intentional quality to it. It was like walking around inside a computer game, only a game whose graphics would make the animators at Cyan cry for sheer joy. Every dust mote was perfectly placed to give the sense of a moment out of time, a place where one is safe from everything. If it weren't for the irritating hum, Methos would feel safer here than anywhere else, including holy ground.

Maybe to a Time Lord it *was* holy ground. After all, hadn't the Doctor called it a state of temporal grace?

Walking through the console room, Methos had to admire the artifice that had gone into this ship. Everything looked old, but in perfect repair. The console itself had the look of a control panel from an H. G. Wells novel, complete with brass knobs and beautifully varnished wood. The Doctor had explained that the entire ship was actually computer generated, via a complicated process known as "block-transfer computation." Methos did not know what block-transfer computation was, and yet...

...and yet he knew that block-transfer computation was at the keystone of creation, holding open the CVEs, the Charged Vacuum Emboitments, to ward off the heat-death of the universe, which the Master had disrupted on Logopolis, with no idea that it would nearly destroy the Universe before the Doctor could save the day, and that block-transfer computation could be used to generate physical structures and even people but could only be done by a living mind...

Methos shook his head to clear it.

Yesterday, his mind had been possessed by the Master, an evil Time Lord who was without a body. The Master was gone, exorcized completely, but many of his memories remained. Every so often, one of them would bubble to the surface. Methos tried not to think about it, as it seemed to help.

"Would you like some tea?"

The Doctor was calling from the other side of the room, where a small sitting area had been set up. There were two very comfortable-looking wing chairs, a throw rug, a large bookcase with a very odd assortment of books, and a mahogony trolly with a steaming silver tea service sitting on top.

Methos circled the console and crossed over to the sitting area. "One lump or two?" asked the Doctor, holding a steaming cup of darjeeling. Methos smiled. The Doctor dropped in a single block of sugar and handed it to the ancient Immortal, along with a silver teaspoon.

As he sat down in one of the wing chairs, stirring his tea reflectively, he thought about the Doctor. It struck him that this strange spaceship, a cross between H. G. Wells and Lewis Carroll - sort of a "Time Machine Through the Looking Glass" - seemed to match the unassuming Time Lord. Like the Doctor, it was an odd, anachronistic jumble of Edwardian England and the mysterious alien world of Gallifrey. And yet, it seemed to *work*. Methos grinned as he glanced at the Doctor's odd attire. It had been a hundred years since Methos had dressed like that, and he doubted he could get away with it now. A dark brown velvet coat, a gray silk cravat, a waistcoat, and the long, ruffled hair so popular a century before.

And the Doctor, a 1,000 year old alien who frequently commented that the 20th Century was his favorite, nevertheless managed to look perfectly normal and at ease in a velvet frock coat. Similarily, the TARDIS could be dusty and even deeply worn, but there was still enough cognitive dissonance upon seeing it to know that the patina of age that lay on every control was purely for the look of the thing.

"You seem interested in the TARDIS," said the Doctor.

Methos shrugged. "It's a beautiful machine. I don't understand half of it, but it is beautiful." He stared at the console. The Time Rotor scraped its way together and apart in the center, hypnotically. It gave the curious impression that it was much farther away than it actually was. Perhaps it had to do with its strange power source, the Eye of Harmony. Methos knew nothing about the Eye of Harmony, except...

...except that it was a black hole captured by Rassilon, one of the first of the Time Lords, and placed beneath the Panopticon on Gallifrey to power all the TARDISes and all of Gallifrey itself, balanced out in a perfect mathematical equation which once sucked the Master into it only for him to escape in the body of Edward Chevalier, an Immortal who owned a nightclub in Bloomington, Minnesota...

Methos shook his head violently to clear the memory. The last thing he wanted to do was to think about the events of the past week.

"Are you all right, Methos?" asked the Doctor, concerned.

Methos smiled. "Terri was right."

"About what?"

"You worry too much."

The Doctor nodded. "I know. I can't help it." He was grinning, stirring his tea like nothing could ever be the matter. Methos shook his head, amused. -Get the Doctor to admit that he worries too much, and watch him become the picture of calm.

A soft, clear bell rang through the console room and the rotor slid gently to a halt. The Doctor's face lit up. In a single motion, he rose from his chair and bounded up to the console. Methos followed. "Are we there yet?" he asked impishly.

The Doctor studied the settings on the console. "Seacouver, 1997 Anno Domini, half past three in the afternoon, exactly as ordered." He looked up, grinning disarmingly. "Did you think I'd miss?"

* * *

The wind whistled through the Place of Light. The little boy sitting at its center had his eyes closed, seeing inward rather than outward. His name was Iktha.

Iktha had been chosen of all the Tolloc, chosen to receive the prophecy. Every autumn, there came a prophecy. And every autumn, the prophecy said only to wait. Time had been passing, passing the Tolloc by, while they stood motionless, unmoved by it, unchanged by it, the same as they had been the day they were born.

But this year might be different. The strangers who called themselves Finders were here, had been here for six years, living in their peculiar castle of shining surfaces and asking the Tolloc very silly questions. Iktha smiled as he opened his eyes, gazing up into the sky, waiting to receive the prophecy. It felt as though this year it might finally be Time. Time for Time to stop passing the Tolloc by.

And the vision began.

It began as it had always begun, with the shared memory of all the Tolloc, the memory of their beginning, the beginning of all things, the beginning of the inescapable Now that encircled their people.

* * *

It began with fire and light, a blazing glory falling from the heavens, falling screaming onto the Tolloc world. The fire fell from the sky and landed in the Place of Light, digging its way into the ground in many small pieces, each impact making the sound of a dozen thunderclaps. Giant seeds were borne down with the fire, and when silence had returned, the seeds germinated. They split open, bearing one Tolloc apiece into the world, all void of memory or knowledge. It was the beginning of time, and the end of their ignorance.

As the newborn Tolloc stood blinking beneath the sun, the Deliverer came. He gave himself for them, falling to the ground in a whirlwind of brilliantly shining power, expanding out like a blossoming flower that joined the Tolloc together. With wind and light, the knowledge came as well.

Iktha saw all of this. And then the vision changed. Iktha knew that it was Time.

The silent call went out, shrieking silently across the silver grasslands, as Iktha awaited the rest of the vision.

* * *

Far away, deep in the shining steel castle of the Finders, a Tolloc woman named Nala woke from her captive slumber. She had heard the call of the Tolloc, heard the call of Iktha. And she knew that it was finally Time. Time for Time to stop passing the Tolloc by.

Time to leave this place. Time to go home. Time to prepare for the end of Today and the beginning of Tomorrow. Time for her to unlock the lost centuries of hidden knowledge.

Time to tell her people the truth about the Finders.

Without a sound, Nala left her pallet in the laboratory. One of the hideous creatures who shared the room with her made a soft, squeaking noise. After a moment of thought, she picked the helpless invertebrate up, wrapped it in a shining thermal blanket, and left.

* * *

The alarm rang, echoing down the steel corridors of the Finder complex. Vorna and Savrek ran down one of them, following the dimishing sound of footsteps.

"Bet you're not bored anymore, Savrek," said Vorna, fumbling to load the tranquilizer gun as she ran.

"Maybe not," said Savrek, "but chasing down runners isn't exactly my idea of fun. Those Tolloc can run a lot faster than we can. What'd this one do?"

"Stole one of the augmented specimens."

"Hell of a thing to steal. Any idea why she might have done it?"

Vorna didn't answer. She was concentrating on running.

Ahead of them, Nala was doing the same.

* * *

Iktha's mind opened beneath the unblinking heavens, grasping for the hidden knowledge that would come. He reached up through the upper levels of consciousness and into the forgotten part, the nameless void of lost memory, hidden knowledge, and instinct. For most Tolloc, it was forbidden to do this. But Iktha was permitted. It would take Nala to dispense the wisdom he would find, and she was still held in the Finder's hospitality. But for now that was not important. She could wait. The visions could not.

* * *

Nala's heart beat fast as she ran down the brushed steel corridors of the Finder's castle, the dead bundle in her arms clutched close to her chest. She had spent the last two seasons here, in captivity, talking with the Finders and letting them poke and prod her as they searched for the answer to a question which she did not understand.

Apart from the prodding, their hospitality had been generous enough, and they had told her more then they had thought. Especially the strange man whom they all called Leader. Kallan was his name. Nala had a strange feeling whenever he came to visit, a strange feeling that he was important. But it was not time to waste energy thinking of him. Now it was time to go home, back to the Tolloc village, time to tell her elders what she knew. Time for her to do her job.

She paused a moment to catch her breath. As she stilled herself, she could hear two Finders running after her. She smiled. They were not as strong as a Tolloc and could not catch her by running. But they had weapons that fired tiny stingers, which could put a Tolloc to sleep for many hours. So Nala started running again. The Finders would not catch her; she was sure of that.

The bundle in her arms moved. Nala stopped again. Surely it was dead? The strange, spineless creature had seemed nearly dead when she had scooped it up in the lab and wrapped it in the shimmering thermal blanket. But it was nevertheless moving, so Nala smacked the bundle hard against the steel wall of the corridor and ran on. She had to bring the dead creature to the village. If nothing else, she could make moccasins from its tough hide.

The bundle moved again. This time, Nala did not notice.

* * *

The scream echoed down the corridor, reverberating past the two Finders sent to catch Nala. They stopped in their tracks while the echoes faded into silence.

"What do you suppose..." began Vorna, swinging her tranquilizer dartgun forward.

The scream came again, then suddenly was cut off.

"It's the mutant," said Savrek, his jaw set firmly. "Has to be."

Vorna frowned. "Wonderful."

They stood in silence for a few seconds. There was no further sound from the Tolloc woman they were pursuing.

"It definitely got her," said Savrek.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them. "Well, let's go clean up after it, then," Vorna said finally. With that, they set off down the corridor.

* * *

"I hate to say it, Doctor, but I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." Methos frowned irritably as he gazed at the endless silver grasslands around the TARDIS. It was much colder than a Seacouver summer, and the air tasted of autumn.

The Doctor locked the door behind him, not looking up at their surroundings. "Nonsense, Methos, I'm sure..." And he trailed off as he saw the silvery wash of grass running all the way to the horizon.

Methos laughed hollowly at the alien prairie. "On second thoughts, it does look a bit like Kansas."

The Doctor shook his head, completely missing Methos' bitter humor. "No. I don't know where we are, but I'm sure it isn't Earth." Frowning, the Time Lord bent down to examine a waving stalk of grass. "Interesting," he said, plucking a seed for closer inspection.

Meanwhile, Methos was sputtering, astonished. "Not Earth? Then where the bloody hell are we?" The mild apprehension he'd felt about travelling with the Doctor was threatening to blossom into unadulterated panic. And Methos made a rule of never panicking.

The Doctor didn't seem to notice. He stood, still examining the grass seed he'd picked. "Fascinating," he said. "This seed is clearly meant to survive an extended winter. Notice the thick shell?"

"That's very nice, Doctor," said Methos, somewhat sharper than he'd intended.

The Doctor dropped the seed and sighed. He stared off at the horizon. "It seems that Quickening did more damage to the TARDIS than I'd thought. Most likely, her destination setting is still malfunctioning. I suppose I really ought to have tested it before we left Minnesota, but it's too late to worry about that now." He turned and looked the old Immortal in the eye. "I am truly sorry, Methos. I'll do my best to repair the damage, and then we'll be off."

"Any idea how long it'll take?" asked Methos.

The Doctor shrugged. "Thirty minutes. A day. Three weeks." He smiled apologetically at Methos. "I don't know. We may be spending some time on this planet, I'm afraid."

"Wonderful," said Methos. A sharper, colder breeze suddenly whipped through the air, slicing between the two of them. Methos shivered; he was wearing his summer coat, and it was hardly warm enough for this sort of weather. He glanced sidelong at the Doctor, wondering how it was the strange alien could wear a light velvet coat in this weather and not mind in the least.

The Doctor noticed Methos shivering. "Come inside. We'll get you something warm to wear."

* * *

Savrek got to the fallen Tolloc first. The mutant had wrapped a tentacle around her neck, strangling the air out of her, apparently letting go when it had seemed that she was dead. The Tolloc were survivors; it would take more to kill this woman than the mutant probably realized. It was still partly wrapped in a mylar blanket, clutched firmly in the woman's right hand. But why did she take it with her? From what he'd seen, Savrek had gathered that the Tolloc were afraid of the mutants. Not that he blamed them.

Vorna caught up. She stopped at his side and bent down to examine the Tolloc woman more closely. "Subject 8, Nala, Librarian of the Tolloc."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Savrek. "I thought our current captive was a clerical type. They usually don't run like the hunters do."

"No," said Vorna, frowning. "That's what's so odd. Until today, she was content to sit with us and answer our questions. What happened to change her mind?"

The mutant made a strange, gurgling noise. Both Finders knew that the homicidal little blob wasn't long for the world. They couldn't live for long without a life support system, and this one had used up all its energy throttling Nala.

"And why did she steal the mutant?" asked Savrek.

Vorna shrugged. "We'll find out, I suppose." Carefully, she unwrapped the mutant from Nala's neck. It seemed too weak to struggle, but there was no point taking chances. "I'll take the mutant, you take Nala."

"And?"

"And we'll take them to Fixer Martin. Before we can question Nala, she's going to need a doctor."

* * *

The wind was picking up, making the Place of Light sing as air whistled through the shards of shining metal. Iktha inhaled sharply through his nose as he touched the shared knowledge of the Tolloc legends and remembered the beginning of things. So long ago...

And then the prophesy started.

"Shadow walker in a dark coat, safe in a place out of time.

Old man with a young face, standing beside the other.

They have come to the world of the Tolloc.

They have come to the end of our time."

Iktha inhaled, then exhaled slowly, his eyes now open but unseeing.

"Death comes to the Tolloc.

Death comes to the Finders.

The Time is upon us,

the Time of knowledge and wisdom

when the memories awaken and the Tolloc decide."

Fire and light had ended the Empty Time, the time before the Tolloc had come to be. Fire and light had brought them here, and fire and light had given them knowledge. In the end, fire and light would close the Tolloc Time. Time would move again, they would remember themselves, and nothing would ever be the same.

The vision ended.

Iktha's head slowly tipped forward until his chin rested on his chest. Exhausted, he slept.

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	2. Episode 2

**EPISODE TWO: Strangers in a Strange Land**

* * *

Fixer Martin sighed deeply as he looked at the bedraggled creature before him. If he let his professional detatchment lapse, he could see that she was very beautiful behind the tangled hair and sweat-smudged skin. But she was a Tolloc; his job was to get her energy levels back up so she could answer some questions.

He looked at the tag around her wrist. "Subject 8," he read aloud to the otherwise empty room. "Nala, Librarian of the Tolloc. Female, apparent age mid-twenties." He chuckled bitterly. "An illiterate librarian. Exactly what we need."

Martin had always liked wordplays. By the standards of his culture, Nala was illiterate. Yet by the standards of her culture, he was the illiterate one. But the wordplay brought him no comfort; trying to crack the psychic library of the Tolloc had been the work of six years, and still the Finder team was no closer to a solution.

Looking at Nala irritated Martin. She reminded him of all the work still to be done, with the Phase Two deadline only months away. So he turned to examine the mutant instead. The Tolloc woman could wait.

Contrary to what Finder Vorna had told Martin, the mutant was not dead. An untrained eye might take it to be dead, but he knew better. It was very hard to quickly kill one of the mutants, and they tended to have strong homicidal tendencies that were quite irrational. Fortunately, outside of their life support systems they couldn't keep moving very long. This one had used all of its energy in a hopeless effort to kill Nala.

Martin examined the soft, unprotected braincase of the creature. Long ago in their radiation-induced evolution, the mutants had lost the ability to turn calcium into bones. As a consequence, their brains were completely unprotected. They could only manage rational thought by connecting their brains to complex computer systems - if you could call their thought rational. They were Dalek mutants, after all, and it was not without reason that half the galaxy lived in constant terror of the very word "Dalek."

This particular mutant had been donated by the Daleks as a test subject. But Martin could tell that its usefulness was over. Livid purple bruises stood out on the soft, shapeless head, presumably inflicted by Nala before the creature had had a chance to strangle her. He checked its vital signs, but the experience of the last six years had taught him how to tell when a Dalek mutant was dying. It might spend the next two days dying, but it was now a foregone conclusion. The nutrient bath he had placed it in would do no good.

Martin sighed again. There was nothing for it. It was time to nurse Nala back to strength. He reached into a cabinet and brought out an ampule of ammonia.

The regenerative abilities of the Tolloc had astounded Martin even when the project had just begun. But then, similar healing rates had been observed many times before, particularily in the indigenous populations of worlds as harsh as Riga 3. He supposed it was an evolutionary advantage when the winter lasted over half the year and the other half of the year was a time of dry grass and fire hazard; they recovered from burns astonishingly quickly, were reasonably cold tolerant, and never got infected. Martin still wished he could've run more thorough tests on them to work out what gave them their marvellous constitution, but Leader Kallan had been very strict on that point. No psychologically traumatic testing could be done. It wasn't out of any sort of philanthropy on his part, Martin knew, but rather due to neccesity. The Tolloc were being evaluated for their psychic skills, and giving them post-traumatic stress disorder would only get in the way.

Martin broke the ammonia ampule under Nala's nose. After a moment, she groaned and her eyelids fluttered. "Call," she whispered, her eyes staring right through the Fixer.

He shivered. "Nala?" He reached out to grasp her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger in an effort to bring her attention back to the real world. "Nala, can you hear me?"

She was still staring beyond him, but she seemed to hear. "Must go... Must answer the call... Iktha..." Martin held her chin more firmly and gave it a little shake. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, and then she realized where she was. With little apparent effort, she brought Martin into focus and smiled faintly. "The creature is dead, is it not?"

Martin shook his head. "No. But it will be soon." He frowned at her as he stood back from her and began to prepare a drinking bottle. "Can you tell me why you tried to flee with it?"

She shrugged. Usually, the Tolloc were all very forthcoming, but Martin could tell she was still exhausted. She had been unconscious, not properly asleep, and even in the Tolloc sleep was a far better restorative than unconsciousness. The drink would help her regain her energy. It was essentially flavored sugar water, with some extra nutrients added to fortify her against the interrogation that would doubtless follow. Communicator Tosk in particular would have some questions for her, as he was the Dalek liason, and Martin didn't envy her the experience. Tosk would be rightfully angry about the dead mutant, but that wasn't why Martin feared him.

He handed the drinking bottle to Nala. "Iktha has called," she said, total seriousness in her face. "It is nearly Time."

Martin was startled. He could hear the capital letter. "What do you mean, 'it is Time'?"

Nala took a long drink from the bottle, then fixed Martin with sparkling eyes. "Time for the one time to end and the next to begin." She smiled, and would say no more.

* * *

"How much longer do you suppose this will take?" Methos was standing in the console room after a good fifteen minute stroll through the endless corridors of the TARDIS. His patience was running thin, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched was making him very edgy.

"I don't know," said the Doctor. Only the lower half of the eccentric Time Lord was visible from beneath the console; the rest was wrapped around the base of the console in an effort to adjust a hard-to-reach component. "It all depends...," he paused to tug a circuit board free, "...on how badly damaged this is." The Doctor smoothly slid out from under the console and hopped up on his feet. "A day? A week?" He shrugged.

"A week?" Methos sighed loudly, exasperated. "You can't be serious!"

The Doctor grinned disarmingly. "I don't think it will take longer than a few hours, really, but it's best to be prepared, don't you think? Besides, I can always take you back to Seacouver only a few minutes after we left Minneapolis."

"Famous last words," grumbled Methos. "I seem to recall you told Terri the same thing."

"Hmm," said the Doctor, not paying attention. He was examining the circuitboard through a jewelers loupe.

"Back in Paris, three years ago, you said you'd return Terri the very next day."

"I wonder..." muttered the Doctor.

"But you left her in Minneapolis almost three years later instead."

The Doctor replaced the loupe with one of higher magnification. "Ah, there we are..."

"So what makes you think I'll trust you to return me only a few minutes later?" The Doctor did not reply, absorbed in his work. Exasperated, Methos snatched the circuit board out of the Time Lord's hands. Startled, he looked up at Methos, the loupe still screwed into his eye. "Doctor, are you listening?"

The Doctor put the loupe away. He nodded. "Yes, I do hear you. I'm sorry, Methos. I was getting carried away with myself. I'm sure you're anxious to get home, and afraid you'll end up on a magical mystery tour of Space and Time." He sighed. "I can't say I blame you. I promise I'll get this fixed as quickly as possible, and then I'll take you straight back to Earth." The Doctor held out his hand. "May I have the vortex algorithm generator back, please?"

"Oh." Methos had forgotten he was still holding it. He handed it back to the Time Lord.

"In the meantime, I'm sure there's something that can keep you occupied on board the TARDIS."

"Ah," said Methos. "Well, that's the problem. I don't feel right here. I'd like to take a walk if that's all right with you."

The Doctor shrugged. "If you like. There's a wardrobe room if you want to change into something warmer. Twelfth door on the left, main passage."

"Thanks," said Methos, "I already found it." He grinned, showing off the cable-knit sweater he'd chosen and the insulated greatcoat he was wearing over his own sword-laden overcoat.

"Excellent," said the Doctor, disappointingly unfazed that Methos would borrow clothes without asking first. The Time Lord pondered for a moment, then stuck his hand deep in his pocket. He searched around through his pockets until he finally found a small, round, metallic object with a button on it. "Take this; it's a homing device. I don't know how well you navigate, but no matter what happens this should lead you straight back to the TARDIS."

After a moment, Methos thanked the Doctor.

"I've also established where we are. We're on the third planet of the star Riga." The Time Lord seemed disappointed. "It's a horribly dull place, totally unpopulated. We're far from the main shipping lanes, and far into your future - it's the 44th Century out there. I seem to recall reading something about Riga 3 once, but I can't for the life of me remember what..."

"I'm sure it's not important," said Methos, a little impatient. Immediately he regretted snapping at the Doctor. Apologetically, he added, "thanks for the homing device."

"You're welcome," said the Doctor, politely, and then dropped back under the console. As Methos walked towards the exterior door, he chuckled, reflecting that the Doctor seemed to enjoy repairing the TARDIS almost as much as he did piloting it.

* * *

"Leader Kallan?" Vorna called his name hesitantly. Savrek was still too angry to speak to Kallan, so she had opted to bring the report on the Tolloc runner instead. She shivered; it was almost as cold in Kallan's office as it was outside on the autumn plains of Riga 3.

Kallan was sitting in a high-backed chair. At the sound of his name, he rotated around so that he was facing Vorna. He was smiling. "Yes, Vorna? Do you have any information on the runner yet?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. Tolloc Subject 8, Nala, escaped her confinement in the laboratory. As you know, she stole one of the specimens."

"A Kaled mutant, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good," said Kallan. "Carry on."

Vorna cleared her throat. "While we pursued, the specimen apparently became conscious, and Nala attempted to kill it with a blow to the head. We believe she did this by swinging it against the wall." She paused to catch her breath. "Savrek and I heard a scream at this point as the specimen was not dead, but angered. It attempted to strangle her."

Kallan sat forward suddenly. "Yes? And what happened?"

She shrugged. "When we got there, Nala was unconscious and the creature was too weakened to struggle any longer. We took them to Fixer Martin. He pronounced the specimen doomed, as it was bleeding heavily from internal injuries, but said that he would attempt to salvage what he could."

"And Nala?" Kallan seemed curiously interested in her fate. Perhaps, thought Vorna, it was because she had shown so much promise in the last few months. But perhaps not.

"The Tolloc woman is recuperating under Martin's care. She was undamaged."

Kallan smiled. "I know."

Vorna frowned, but did not ask how he knew, or why he'd asked her about it if he already knew. Most likely, he was lording it over the team as usual, demanding a report when no report was neccesary.

He spoke again. "Communicator Tosk reported observing an anomalous ion trail."

Vorna perked up. Among his duties, Tosk was responsible for all extra-planetary observation. Since they were working for the Daleks, it was quite possible that one of their many enemies would come to steal or sabotage their work. If they did, reflected Vorna, it might persuade the arrogant tin cans to speed up the project. And that would help everyone.

"Do you think it could be a spacecraft, sir?" asked Vorna.

Kallan nodded. He wasn't playing cat-and-mouse now. He was dead serious. "Tosk says the pattern is consistent with some very advanced technology. He wouldn't say any more than that." The leader sighed. "We need to find out what came down."

"And?"

"And we could have intruders, Vorna. Send a drone to investigate."

* * *

It was cold on the planet's surface, but this time Methos relished the cool. It made him feel that he was doing something other than just sitting in that horribly infinite TARDIS. Strange to feel agoraphobic indoors, but there was just something about that machine, something that made him feel uncomfortable, something that made him feel like he was being watched.

Not so in this grassland. Here he felt genuinely alive, and yet also at peace. Now that the cold wasn't bothering him so much, he actually liked it. The silver grasses swayed quite beautifully in the breeze, and on this distant, uninhabited world there could be no evil Immortals to fear. It was only a few months since his encounter with Kronos, and the ancient Immortal was still jumping at loud noises.

He strolled down the low hill upon which the TARDIS rested and meandered along a dry ravine. Water had flowed along the riverbed once, but it looked as though it had been dry for many seasons. Methos wondered what sort of an ecology this world had. It reminded him of the Great Plains of North America as they were hundreds of years before, beautiful but empty, populated only by the silent, unresponsive grasses. No birds wheeled in the sky, no animals were foraging in the prairie... Like the Plains, there had to be animals here, but at least at the moment there were no large ones to be seen. Not a single sparrow.

The ravine eventually met up with another, deeper one. This one had water flowing through it, and the burbling sound was very pleasant to the ear. A peaceful world, this. It was strange, he reflected, to be standing in the far distant future, but in a place that looked so much like the grasslands of Earth did so long ago. No smog, no freeways, no light pollution (the night sky must be stunning), no jet contrails far above... There was a strangely delightful feeling that if he stopped paying attention to time, it would simply stand still.

-MacLeod would love it here, thought Methos wryly. The relatively young Scot often retreated from human society for days, weeks, or even months at a time, meditating in silence. But while the peacefulness gave Methos a wonderful feeling of calm, he knew he couldn't remain sane for long on an uninhabited world. He needed to see people, needed to interact with them daily. Perhaps it was his inherent sociability, or perhaps it was his desire for the anonymity of a large city, but in either case Methos needed people.

He strolled along the bank of the small brook, his hands in his pockets, drinking in the clear air. He could taste winter approaching; it must be autumn on this faraway world. He wondered how far away this planet - Riga 3, if he recalled correctly - was from Earth. A long way, no doubt. Would its star even be visible in the night sky? When night fell, would Methos see the Sun, glittering as a tiny point of light far away from Riga? Or was it too distant even for that?

Distant in time as well. The Doctor had said it was the forty-fourth century. The old Immortal shook his head, smiling with amusement. Five thousand years spent living, and then suddenly another two thousand-plus years had gone by in the blinking of an eye as the TARDIS travelled through the Time Vortex. It was a strange feeling to see that two thousand years had passed without him living them.

A thought struck him; if this were the distant future, the Gathering might have happened. Or not. Either way, a lot of his friends could be dead. For that matter, he himself might be dead.

Methos shivered. Although he had no particular desire to be the One, he couldn't quite tolerate the thought of his own death. It was particularily eerie to think that somewhere in this universe there could be a gravestone with his name on it.

A soft humming noise interrupted Methos' morbid chain of thought. Relieved, he climbed out of the shallow ravine to investigate.

A machine about the size of an ultralight aircraft was buzzing gently through the air, ten feet off the ground. An electronic eye scanned the surface until it came to rest on Methos. He stared at it, astonished. -But this planet was supposed to be uninhabited!

The machine hovered over to Methos. It slowed as it approached, and Methos realized it was aiming directly for him. He turned to run, but it was too late. The machine fired an anesthetic dart which stuck in the Immortal's left bicep. He turned to see the machine drop gently towards him, with mechanical arms delicately unfolding from its side. Then the anesthetic took affect, and Methos crumpled limply to the ground.

The Finder drone paused over Methos' unconscious form for a moment to establish that he was indeed unconscious, and then picked him gently up and buzzed off, satisfied that its mission had been accomplished.

 _._

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	3. Episode 3

**EPISODE THREE: Meetings of Like Minds**

* * *

"Almost there," muttered the Doctor as he twisted his arm around inside the TARDIS console, trying to reach the inconveniently placed motherboard. He felt the daughtercard in his hand brush against its socket. "There," he said triumphantly, pushing the card home. The vortex algorithm generator was back in place. A little testing, and he could be sure it worked.

He slowly unwound himself from the cramped position he'd been sitting in to reach the underside of the console. The diagnostics would take a few minutes to run - just enough time to make a pot of tea. He flicked the switch that would start the test procedure and strolled across the room to the sitting area.

Thanks to the TARDIS, a steaming hot pot of water was already there, waiting for him to add the tea himself. The Doctor pondered a while over which tea to use. He found himself humming a jaunty little tune as he did so, and realized that he was in a spectacularily good mood. Grinning at himself, he picked a tea purely at random and filled a cheesecloth bag with it. As he did, he noticed that it was called Noel, a lovely blend of black tea and Christmassy spices from Mariage Frere in Paris. He smiled even broader at the memory and dropped the tea into the water. The scent of tea and cinnamon quickly filled the cool, pleasant air of the TARDIS.

As the Doctor bustled about preparing tea, he pondered the reason for his energetic mood. His recent battle with the Master had been anything but pleasant, and although it was too soon for him to be really missing Terri, he couldn't help but admit that the TARDIS was a bit emptier without her. And Methos...

Yes, Methos. The Doctor chuckled a little to himself. Not even the snappishness with which the ancient human had spoken earlier could darken the Doctor's mood. He understood Methos' concerns about being stuck on a random tour of the Universe - Tegan had been bothered by much the same thing. Anyway, the Doctor had already promised himself he'd do his best to get Methos home. He'd gotten a lot better at piloting the TARDIS since his fifth regeneration, and as long as the damage from the Quickening was repaired, there shouldn't be any problem.

Whistling softly to himself, the Doctor strode back to the console to finish testing his repairs.

* * *

There was a soft black haze around Methos' consciousness. He groaned, for a moment thinking he was trapped inside his own head again, and that the Master was back. But the silence remained unbroken, save by the echoes of his groan. And he knew that he was alone inside his head. The serpentine presence of the Master was not responsible for his current state.

So what was? Groggily, he searched his memory for the answer.

Tranquilizer. He remembered the strange robot, firing a dart into his body that made him sleep. Pushing through the drug-induced fog, he became aware that he was lying on his back in a warm place. He sat up, shook his head to clear it, and opened his eyes.

He was sitting on a table in what looked very much like an operating theater. The table he was sitting on was padded, however, and quite comfortable. Presumably, the robot drone had brought him here after anesthetizing him. Perhaps it was a highly advanced probe similar to the Viking spacecraft that had landed on Mars back in the mid-70s, sent to investigate what little life there was on this empty world. Perhaps it considered him to be a native of Riga 3.

The anesthetic was wearing off very quickly thanks to his Immortal healing abilities, and he was able to hop down off the table with no trouble and begin investigating his surroundings. He had no doubt the Doctor would wait for him; the old Time Lord was almost as infuriatingly chivalrous as MacLeod. In the meantime, this situation bore investigating.

There were devices neatly placed on the shelves that seemed to Methos to have a medical look to them, but he couldn't for the life of him work out what they were. Although he knew he wouldn't be able to name half the devices in a modern 20th Century hospital, he could still blame that on lack of practice. These devices, however, were completely beyond him. As he prowled the operating theater, he half expected to find a tricorder, lying next to a Star Trek hypospray. There were a few things that looked familiar: a sink, articulated light fixtures, tweezers. He shook his head, grinning at the baffling array of technology. It would take him a few lifetimes - a few very happy lifetimes - to learn what it was all for. He was still grinning when he found the creature.

The smile fell from his face.

In a large steel basin sat an amorphous blob of green flesh. It resembled an octopus, but without the suckered tentacles and with far less color to the skin. As Methos stared at it with a morbid fascination, he could make out the faint outlines of organs beneath the skin. The main body of the creature (was it the head or the abdomen? Methos couldn't say) was blotched with marks that looked like bruising, although Methos acknowledged that he knew almost nothing about this creature. It was intensely ugly, but the soft shape of a boneless face could be made out on one side of it. With the addition of a skeleton, some hair, and a lot more muscle, it could almost pass for a primate.

The door slid open and Methos turned. "Ugly little bugger, isn't it?" There was a man standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pale green jumpsuit and there was a mask of some kind hanging around his neck. The man was smiling in a very disarming manner.

Methos smiled back, revealing nothing, least of all the alarming fact that this man seemed to speak English. "What is it?"

The man entered the room and the door slid shut behind him. He came to stop beside the creature. "It's a Kaled mutant. The real creature inside of a Dalek. Be careful if you meet one; they tend to be very nasty out of their shells."

Shells... Methos chuckled. "Thinks the world is its oyster, eh?"

The humor was lost on the man. "This one's dead. One of our subjects tried to run off with it."

"Subjects?"

The man nodded. "Yes. We're here on a research mission."

Methos' eyebrows came together. "Who exactly are 'we'?"

"The Finders." He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Martin. I'm the Fixer for this team. Fixer Martin."

"I thought you looked like a doctor," said Methos.

"Well, I do a bit of that as well, but mostly I just do veterinary work," said Martin. "I repair the damage inadvertently done to the organic test subjects."

Methos couldn't help but smile. "But you call yourself 'Fixer'? I hope you don't normally 'fix' your test subjects."

Martin appeared puzzled for a moment, then laughed. "To be honest, I hadn't thought of it that way." He smiled. "I'm part of a Finder team. Our employers favor fairly straightforward titles."

"So I take it your team finds things, then?"

The Fixer shrugged. "We're more of a research and development team, but I think they look on it more as finding things that are already known. Our communications specialist came up with the names. He said the customers would prefer 'fixer' to 'doctor,' for one thing. I can't think why."

* * *

It had been two hours since Methos had left for his walk, and still he hadn't returned. The tea had gone cold, and finally the Doctor had gone out looking for him. "All right, Methos," muttered the Doctor, "where have you gone?"

The wind whipped the words away from the Doctor's mouth as he stood on a low rise not far from the TARDIS. He was reluctant to stray far; although he had an unerring sense of direction, there was no good way to track Methos. The waist-high grass had erased the errant Immortal's path, closing up any trace that might show the way.

On a whim, the Doctor struck out towards a winding depression that he could see not too far off. It appeared to be a ravine, cut in the hard soil of Riga 3 by water, wind, or some other force. The only sounds he heard were the gentle whispering of the wind and the soft sounds made by his feet and body as he passed through the resiliant silver grasses.

After a time, the sound of water added itself to the otherwise empty air. The Doctor grinned; the ravine was a likely path for Methos to have taken, especially if it contained water. The water would make it more interesting, and as Methos had been keen to distract himself from the situation, this was a good bet.

The only question was which way the ancient Immortal went.

The Doctor reached the edge of the ravine. He peered over the edge. It wasn't very steep; it would be very easy to drop down to the floor of the ravine and walk there. Then again, if he stayed on the top, he'd have an excellent vantage point for finding his friend. And for spotting any possible trouble.

Pausing only to mark the direction towards the TARDIS with a collection of small rocks from the riverbed, the Doctor set off towards the right. The wind still blew across the gray flatlands, and the Doctor kept walking. For a few minutes, it seemed the sun was about to break through the otherwise featureless skies, but then the clouds sealed over again.

The temperature was dropping, barely perceptably. It didn't bother the Doctor especially, not with his Time Lord metabolism, but it did mean that night was not far off. Probably. Either that, or it was about to snow. The Doctor gazed up at the leaden clouds. They did seem heavy with the weight of a winter white-out, but there was no indication besides the temperature that they might drop their cargo on the plains of Riga 3.

After fifteen minutes walking along the banks of the ravine, the Doctor heard a sound. It was not the sound of the wind, nor the sound of his own feet, nor the deafening silence of a heavy snowfall.

Someone was singing.

"Methos?" called the Doctor. There was no answer.

The voice was still singing, and it definitely sounded human. Humanoid, anyway. He couldn't quite make out the words, but it didn't sound like the ancient Immortal. The Doctor reflected that he'd never heard Methos sing, but it didn't seem in character for him to wander the surface of an alien planet, idly singing a nonsense tune.

"Who's there?" called the Doctor, approaching the voice.

The singing stopped. The Doctor paused, scanning the surrounding flatlands and then the riverbed itself. He listened carefully, but heard nothing. A moment later, a figure appeared in the bottom of the ravine, running easily and soundlessly around a bend in the ravine's walls.

"Stranger!"

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. It was a small boy, barely seven years of age. The boy was staring up at the Doctor. There was no fear in his eyes. He didn't even seem surprised.

The Doctor climbed down the side of the ravine. The boy made no effort to escape or avoid him; it was as if the boy were accustomed to strangers on this world. The Doctor looked him over. He was wearing moccasins and furs to protect against the cold. The style of the garments seemed very familiar to the Doctor, very like Sioux garments, but he shrugged it off for the moment. It was more important that he find out about this boy. What was he doing on Riga 3? Why wasn't the planet uninhabited? And what in Rassilon's name was a small boy doing out on his own in such a forbidding climate?

The boy smiled. "Greetings, Shadow Walker."

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"I am Iktha," he said. "Watcher of the Tolloc." The boy smiled again, laughed childishly, and ran off down the ravine.

"Goodness," said the Doctor, finally.

After a moment, Iktha came back. "Well, come on!" he said, beckoning for the Doctor to follow.

* * *

"All done," said Fixer Martin.

"That was quick," commented Methos. Martin had done a complete physical in under five minutes simply by waving a handheld device over the surface of his body. "Just like 'Star Trek.'"

Martin put the device away. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Methos, amused. Anachronisms, he decided, were even more fun when time travel was involved. "Just an idle thought."

Martin clucked his tongue. "Well, you'd better keep your idle thoughts safely locked away when Leader Kallan arrives."

"Why is that?" Methos asked lightly.

Martin looked Methos in the eye. Methos could tell the man was trying to look cheerful, but he wasn't fooled. Martin had some sort of respect for this mysterious Kallan that overrode any possibility of joviality. "He'll want to question you. And I warn you, he takes these things very seriously," said Martin.

"No sense of humor, eh?"

Martin shook his head. "It's not that, it's just... Well, he is the project leader. He got the job because he gets results. Let's just leave it at that, all right?" The Fixer's pretense at humor had dropped completely.

Methos didn't let it bother him. "Well, maybe you just need to..."

He broke off.

It was the last thing he had expected on this alien world. He straightened his back and looked to the door, every fiber of his being quivering with the sure and certain knowledge that there was another Immortal present. Automatically, he reached for his sword, forgetting that it, along with his coat, had been taken from him. He swore shortly in Sumerian.

"What's wrong?" asked Martin, clearly worried.

Methos shook his head and feigned a relaxed smile. "Oh, nothing. I just remembered something, that's all."

The door slid open with a gentle electronic whirr. Automatically, Methos turned to lock eyes with the Immortal who stood there. The man was of slightly more than average height, but with a well-muscled frame. He had pale blond hair and eyes so gray the irises seemed invisible. After meeting Methos' gaze, he entered the room and strode across to the examining table.

He put out his hand. "My name is Kallan."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, Methos took Kallan's hand and shook it. "Adam Pierson," he said, not wanting to reveal his identity and praying that his Adam Pierson persona hadn't become public knowledge in the past two millenia. A frightening thought struck him - what had become of the Game in two thousand years? In the late 20th Century, so many Immortals were convinced that the Gathering had come. Methos had never been convinced, but what if it were true? What if it was all over? What if the Prize had been won?

What if he was now speaking to the One?

He swallowed, put on his best poker face, and looked Kallan in the eye.

The other Immortal inclined his head. "You are welcome here, Mister Pierson." He smiled, and Methos did not know what to make of the smile.

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	4. Episode 4

**EPISODE FOUR: Ulterior Motives**

* * *

The sullen gray skies of Riga 3 slowly dimmed as its sun, Riga, sank behind the distant horizon. It was nearly night when the Doctor and Iktha reached the settlement. It was a collection of twenty simple earthen huts, made of sod cut from the grasslands and roofed over with a complicated thatch that didn't simply lie across the roof beams, but which seemed to have been woven tightly into layers of matting and insulation.

Iktha had followed the ravine to find his way back to the settlement, cheerfully beckoning for the Doctor to follow whenever the Time Lord paused for breath. -Children, thought the Time Lord. -Always full of such wonderful, boundless energy.

It was the joy of timelessness, he supposed. Children were too young to have a good idea of time, and thus any measure of time longer than a day could seem like forever. Plenty of time to rest later. Right now, the moment needed to be enjoyed.

The Doctor chuckled lightly as he surveyed the village. According to Iktha, these people were called "Tolloc," and they were the indigenous people of Riga 3, although they had no name for their world and therefore called it nothing more complicated than "here." But the Doctor felt that there was something missing. This world did not have the resources for a race as highly evolved as the Tolloc to have come into being. No, the Doctor felt they came from somewhere else originally.

There was something about Riga 3, something the Doctor should have remembered... He dismissed the thought. If it was important, the information would surface later on. If it didn't, he would take the situation as it came and everything would work out in the end. It always did.

And anyway, it was more important that the Doctor find out if these people knew where Methos was.

The Doctor looked around for Iktha. The boy was standing well inside the boundaries of the settlement, beckoning to the Doctor. The Time Lord entered and followed Iktha to the clearing in the center of the loose collection of huts. Still there were no other Tolloc present.

In the center stood a large stone table, obviously quite old. Probably made well over a thousand years before, the Doctor realized. That would imply that the Tolloc had been living in this spot for at least that long. He wondered where the rest of their race was; no race this small could survive that many generations without suffering some serious inbreeding problems. And Iktha seemed too healthy for those sorts of conditions.

As Iktha approached the table, he dropped much of his youthful excitement. The energy was still there, the Doctor could tell, but now he was moving with a great deal more respect. Perhaps this was the altar of the Tolloc deity, or some other structure of religious significance.

Iktha picked something up off of the altar and turned, holding the object close between his hands. "People of the Tolloc!" he called out. "Iktha has returned! It is Time!"

The Doctor became aware of movement coming from the huts around the village. The Tolloc were emerging. They were dressed much the same as Iktha. There were men, women, children, and three very elderly individuals, two men and a woman. The Doctor estimated that there were thirty four people surrounding the altar now. Including Iktha, that made the Tolloc number thirty five. They all appeared calm and relaxed, but the Doctor could sense a background hum of energy behind their cool disposition. They were clearly anticipating whatever it was that Iktha had to say.

Curious, the Doctor turned to face Iktha once more. The boy smiled at him and then opened his hands to show the object he was holding.

The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat.

"The Shadow Walker has come to the Tolloc," said Iktha, as he raised the carved bone knife and pointed it at the twilight sky far above.

* * *

"So," said Kallan, "what brings you to the Riga System?"

Methos was sitting in Kallan's office, watching Kallan warily as he leaned back in a deep, comfortable chair. Methos had been given a similarily comfortable chair, but he refused to allow his guard to drop. The two of them were quite alone, and the ancient Immortal was acutely aware of the fact that he did not have his sword. It had been taken from him along with his coat and until now he hadn't been sure how to ask for it back.

"Mister Pierson...or may I call you Adam?"

Methos allowed a grin to curl the corners of his mouth. -Time for the poker face, he thought. "Please do," he said. "You may not believe me, but I came here by accident."

Kallan chuckled. "You're right, Adam. I don't believe you."

Methos brought his eyebrows together in a perfect blend of innocence, confusion, and wounded pride. "What don't you believe?"

The other Immortal leaned across his desk suddenly, looking Methos right in the eyes. There was a strange glint there that Methos could not read. "I think you came here for much the same reason I did."

Methos cocked his head to one side. "Why would you think that? I'm not an explorer, nor am I particularily interested in scientific research."

Kallan was grinning widely. "Is that so? Well, would it help if I explained just what I'm doing here? Perhaps then you'll trust me." Kallan laughed loudly. "I mean, it's not as if I want your head."

Methos allowed the jovial poker face to drop a little into total seriousness. "Even so, I'd still like my sword back. Call it insurance."

"Ah yes," said Kallan. "I apologize; I was being remiss. We'll get your things back to you in just a few minutes. I'd like to give you a tour of the facility."

Curious, Methos turned his head to one side. "Facility? Just what are you studying on this research mission? I was under the impression that Riga 3 was unpopulated. I mean, you certainly aren't here for the view."

Kallan tipped his head to acknowledge that Methos had a point. "True. But Riga 3 is not unpopulated. It's populated by a very small group of humanoids. They're called the Tolloc." Kallan's eyes glittered. "My employers want the Tolloc for a very specific purpose. But that's not why I'm researching them. I believe they hold the key to a very old question, a question that is of great importance to me."

Kallan leaned forward again. "I think that question is of great importance to you too, Adam. If you came here for the same reason, we can either work together, or not. Once I've shown you what the Tolloc have to offer us, I think you'll want to cooperate. Are you interested?"

Methos smiled. "I'll tell you when I've seen it."

Kallan leaned back again and regarded Methos carefully. "Of course, if you don't want to cooperate, I might just take your head."

* * *

The Doctor stared apprehensively at the bone knife Iktha had raised into the air. But, much to his relief, the boy did not seem to see it as a weapon. Iktha reverently lowered the knife, turned it so he was holding the blade, and handed it to the Doctor.

"Take this, Shadow Walker," he said. His voice was surprisingly soft and gentle. There was also a curious maturity to it, which led the Doctor to wonder just what Iktha's position was in Tolloc society. Was he some sort of religious figure like the Dalai Lama, raised from early childhood to symbolize the spirituality of these people?

"Take," said Iktha again, holding the knife out. The Doctor grasped the handle and Iktha gently withdrew his hands. "You are now friend to the Tolloc."

"I'm flattered," said the Doctor, smiling politely, "but I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I am Iktha," said the boy as if that answered everything. He gazed up at the Doctor, the height difference seeming irrelevant as he met the Time Lord's eyes with total understanding. "I am the Watcher of the Tolloc."

"But what do you watch?"

Iktha smiled. "Dreams."

"Whose dreams?"

The boy laughed, a light and joyful sound that was neither condescending nor derisive. Then he laughed again, and this time his voice was full of childish energy once more. The Doctor looked around at the assembled Tolloc and saw that they too were smiling. Iktha stopped laughing and the Doctor turned to look at him once more. "Iktha, whose dreams do you watch?"

The boy's eyes twinkled merrily, but he did not answer.

* * *

"Did you hear about the newcomer?" asked Savrek. He was visiting Vorna in her quarters again, although this time he was the one looking out the window, wishing he were out there instead of trapped in this steel box of a research station.

"Of course I did," snapped Vorna. "I was the one who unloaded him from the drone."

"Yes," said Savrek, "but do you know what happened after that?"

Vorna sighed. She knew that the stranger was being shown around the facility by Leader Kallan, and that no security precautions had been taken. But she had bitten her tongue and not raised her complaints to Leader Kallan. And she certainly hadn't mentioned it to Communicator Tosk. Kallan's startling disobedience of the security protocols would only aggravate the customers. And if the customers were aggravated, they might call off the project altogether. If there was one thing Vorna hated, it was to leave a project unfinished.

She said none of this to Savrek. Instead, she raised weary eyes to meet his irritated gaze and gently shook her head. "I know he's been given the run of the place, but I haven't been following the situation. I've had other things to do."

"Really," said Savrek, unconvinced.

"Really!" she replied. "I've been going through the notes on Tolloc rituals. It seems to me their work in the past year has been very different than what we observed before, but I want to establish precisely what that difference is before I bring it before the team."

"Well," said Savrek, ignoring everything Vorna had said, "you'll be surprised to hear that not only has the newcomer been given the run of the place, but he's also been given his belongings back."

"What?!" Vorna snapped to full attention. "Including that ridiculously huge blade we found on him?"

"Yes," replied Savrek.

"So now we've got an armed intruder wandering about the facility, with no security clearance or escort?"

"Well, Kallan is with him right now."

Vorna shook her head. After the interminable slowness of the first six years, things were suddenly moving very quickly. Either Kallan had inexplicably gone mad, or Communicator Tosk was right - there was an ulterior motive at work. "Tosk will burst an artery when he hears about this."

"Already did," said Savrek. "I told him before I came to visit you."

Vorna's eyebrows shot up. "Savrek, are you sure that was neccesary?"

"Well, it's a security issue, and I thought..."

"The first thing Tosk will do is contact the Daleks. And unless he can give them a full explanation, they'll send an investigative team. And you realize what that will mean."

"Yes," said Savrek. "It means that someone will finally shut that bastard Kallan up. I'm sick and tired..."

"Stuff it, Savrek!" Vorna glared at him. "I know you want to get home, but you haven't worked with the Daleks before. If something is wrong here, they'll abandon the project altogether. And they may decide to kill us all first."

He scoffed. "I cannot believe they'd do a silly, pointless thing like that. I've worked for military groups before. They never waste lives if those lives could potentially be useful."

Vorna gave him a good long look before responding. "Savrek, the Daleks are the most spiteful, impulsive creatures I've ever worked for. They're not just another military group. They're psychotic. If they come to Riga 3 to investigate our apparent failure, there's a good chance we'll end up dead."

"So why work for them if they're so insane?"

Vorna shook her head sharply. "It's a long story and I'm really not in the mood. And anyway, we need to find out what's happening with the newcomer."

"What do you suppose the Daleks will do with him?" asked Savrek.

"For his sake, let's hope we don't have to find out."

* * *

Methos was being led through the brushed steel corridors of the Finder station. Kallan had asked him questions about relatively trivial matters, but fortunately nothing had been very difficult to answer. He had successfully skirted the questions about where he was from and where he was going; strangely, Kallan did not seem interested in Methos' past. Only in securing his cooperation. He had even returned Methos' sword to him.

"So," said Methos, attempting to shift the conversation away from himself, "just who are your employers?"

"You've probably heard of them," said Kallan, "but they're not as bad as most people think. They're the Daleks, and they're in a very difficult position right now."

"How so?"

"Well, their war with the Movellans has been going very badly," explained Kallan. Methos exercised the wisdom of his centuries and decided to forgo the question of what Movellans were. "As you know, they've been trapped in a stalemate for quite a long time. They're desperate for a solution."

"I can see where they would be," said Methos. He wondered what sort of war could produce such a longterm stalemate in the future, when weapons of mass destruction were surely far more powerful than at the close of the Second Millenium. It didn't sound anything like the Hundred Years War.

"The past few decades, they've been hacking one another's battle computers," said Kallan. "So naturally the next move was to develop a computer the Movellans couldn't break into. Or, at the very least, a completely secure data storage device."

"Good idea," said Methos. So computers were still around in two thousand years... Interesting. And they seemed to have the same security issues as in the twentieth century.

"The Daleks hired me when I brought forth the notion of a purely organic data storage system. I knew already that I could get the components for this system on Riga 3."

"But how?" asked Methos.

Kallan stopped. They had reached what looked like a lift. The doors opened smoothly and Kallan stepped in. Methos followed. "When I contacted the Daleks, I was the only person in the Universe who knew the truth of Riga 3. In 2498, a colony ship bound for the Riga system was lost." Kallan pressed a button and the lift began descending. "It was believed destroyed. Its final message was an automated warning announcing that all life support for the colonists in suspended animation had failed." The lift stopped and its doors opened. "I suspected that the ship had crash landed on one of the planets in this system. When I reached Riga 3 in the initial scouting mission, I discovered that my suspicions were correct. The colony ship had come down on the surface of this planet."

"So?" said Methos. "I still don't see how a ship full of dead colonists could populate this world. Or did their livestock survive the journey?"

Kallan chuckled. "You really have no idea, have you, Adam?" Methos shrugged. "Very well. Follow me." He set off down another corridor. "The colonists were not actually dead; they only seemed to be."

"Ah," said Methos, understanding. "So the ship reported home incorrectly?"

"Not exactly," replied Kallan. He stopped outside a pair of double doors. "The ship reported home perfectly. But there was something the authorities back on Earth weren't counting on. For one thing, there was a massive invasion of the planet Earth. They weren't able send the second mission that was supposed to follow, once basic terraforming was complete. The original colonists did not die in the crash, and no one was ever able to discover the fact."

"Are you telling me there are humans on this planet?" asked Methos.

"Yes," said Kallan. "They call themselves the Tolloc. But they're not ordinary humans. For one thing, they are powerful telepaths. The plan I gave the Daleks was to adapt their shared minds for use as an organic data store that only particular organic brains, such as those of specially modified Kaled mutants, could access." Kallan pressed a key to a panel beside the door and Methos heard a faint click as it unlocked.

"This *was* the plan?" asked Methos, mildly disappointed that the door was locked by so primitive a method. He had expected a little more out of the 44th Century.

Kallan grinned at Methos. "That's what the Daleks think we're working for. I've got something quite different in mind." Kallan put his hand on the door. The grin on his face was becoming quite disturbing. "In this room is a Tolloc woman. Once you see her, you'll know why I'm interested in them."

The Immortal Finder pushed the door open. Methos walked through it. And just as Kallan had promised, he knew exactly what was special about the Tolloc. The rushing, whirling sensation at the base of his skull was a dead giveaway.

The woman sitting on a cot at the far side of the room looked up and met his eye. She smiled. "I am Nala," she said, "Librarian of the Tolloc."

Methos blinked. He turned to Kallan. "Yes," said the other man, quietly. "She is one of us. But she knows nothing of the Game."

"Nothing?" asked Methos, astonished.

"Nothing," repeated Kallan.

"So let me guess," said Methos, "she became Immortal sometime after the colony was first founded, and is now the primary keeper of information for the colonies' descendants?"

Kallan shook his head. "No."

"What, then? And why are you so interested in the Tolloc other than Nala?"

"They are all like her."

Methos' eyes widened. "You mean..."

"Yes. The Tolloc are all Immortal, every one of them. They became Immortal when the colony ship's life support systems failed, and they have lived with no knowledge of the Game for nearly two thousand years."

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	5. Episode 5

**EPISODE FIVE: Shadow Walker**

* * *

Methos was still in shock. He had never expected to meet an Immortal on this distant world, but to learn that the entire indigenous population of Riga 3 was also Immortal...well, it was more than just a surprise. The Tolloc woman Nala was staring at Methos, smiling in a way that was starting to make the ancient Immortal a little nervous. There was a lot that Kallan wasn't telling, Methos was sure.

To cover his amazement, Methos pulled himself upright and looked around the room more carefully. There was a pallet on the floor, which apparently Nala used as a bed. Against one wall was a row of transparent cages, made of a substance similar to plexiglass. Inside most of the cages were hideous, invertebrate creatures similar to the one he'd seen dead in the laboratory.

"More Kaled mutants," explained Kallan, noticing Methos' interest. "The Daleks donated them so that we could link them telepathically to the Tolloc. So far, it hasn't worked."

Methos did not respond. His mind was moving too quickly as he tried to absorb everything he had been told. In the past 24 hours, he had left Earth, travelled forward in Time over twenty-four centuries, seen his first alien planet, and learned that there were Immortals nearly two thousand years old who had never lifted a sword in their lives. And now he was looking at a genuine intelligent extraterrestrial.

The creature in the cage nearest him moved, emitting a squelching noise that was quite sickening. Methos suddenly realized that the creature had lots of tubes running to and from its body. It was on life support of some kind. As he cast his gaze across the other cages, he realized that they were all on life support. How fearsome could these things be? They were small, unable to stand under their own power, and seemed to be dependent on technology. Finally he shrugged and turned to examine Nala herself.

The woman was standing in front of her pallet, smiling a strange smile that communicated absolutely nothing. It was almost as if she were laughing at Methos, but didn't want to embarass him.

Still, he reminded himself, one musn't judge cultural reactions based on one's own culture. This could be a display of great honor for all he knew.

Which wasn't much. When it came to the Tolloc, Methos knew virtually nothing, and it worried him a great deal. How had Kallan known to come to Riga 3? What did he really want out of the Tolloc? And how did a colony ship, sent apparently by a major Earth organization, come to be filled with three dozen pre-Immortals?

* * *

The sun was going down. Because of the clouds, the only way the Doctor could tell was by the slow dimming of light that came in from outside the low hut where the Tolloc had taken him. He was alone, waiting while Iktha ran to fetch the villiage elders. The Doctor reflected that Iktha was a very strange lad. He seemed to be a person of great importance in the village, despite his youth. Then again, during the ceremony when he had given the Doctor the bone knife, he had not seemed like a child.

In that moment, Iktha had reminded the Doctor of the ancient hermit near his childhood home in the mountains of South Gallifrey.

Light flickered at the open door of the hut and three important-looking Tolloc, two male and one female, entered, led by Iktha. Each carried a lantern, carved of bone and yet not seeming to burn from the curiously smokeless flame within. The light glittered in their eyes, but these Tolloc were not smiling like the others before. Iktha, too, had become very serious.

The Doctor realized that the elders were actually quite young, not one of them over thirty-five. Perhaps life expectancy was very short in this harsh climate. One of them, a tall man with brilliant red hair and a spectacularily long beard, bowed deeply in front of the Doctor, then knelt on a reed mat on the packed earth floor of the hut. He gestured for the Doctor to do the same.

Once the Doctor had knelt, the others all knelt as well. Smiling, the Doctor decided to break the ice. "Hello!" he said brightly. "I am the Doctor, and I was wondering if you could help me."

The redhead with the enormous beard waved a hand peremptorially. "We know what you are. Iktha has told us."

"Yes," said the Doctor, "I'm very curious about that."

"It was foretold," explained a raven-haired woman who sat to the redhead's left. "Iktha saw the coming of the Shadow Walker. He saw it in the Place of Light."

"The Place of Light?" asked the Doctor, his concern for Methos temporarily overridden by curiosity.

"Our holy place," said Iktha. "The place of our beginning, and the place of ending." He smiled, almost shyly. It struck the Doctor as quite uncharacteristic for Iktha, or, indeed, any of these strangely happy people. "When we met, I was returning from the Place of Light."

The wind picked up outside, whistling past the doorway, and then died back down. None of the Tolloc said a thing. The Doctor looked into their faces, but saw no answers. He looked at the patch of dimming sky out the doorway, but there was no answer there either.

"I'm looking for a friend," said the Doctor.

A blond haired man with no beard at all spoke up. "You came with another?"

"Yes," replied the Time Lord. "I'm quite worried about him. Although I imagine he's wondering what's become of me now."

The blond man nodded. "We will help you. But we must know first who you are."

"I thought you said you knew!"

"No," said the redhead, shaking his head so hard the beard twitched down to its ends. "We know *what* you are, but not *who* you are. And it is the self which we must know." He tipped his head to one side. "You are like the Strangers, closed to us."

"Wait a minute, what strangers?" asked the Doctor.

But the man did not seem to have heard him. "We cannot read you as we read each other, and so we must ask to find out who you are."

The Doctor considered this. "You're telepathic?"

Iktha spoke but did not answer. "The prophecy says that a Shadow Walker will come out of a safe place, a place out of Time." The TARDIS, realized the Doctor. "And that when the Shadow Walker comes, the Tolloc time will end."

The dark-haired woman spoke again. "The prophecy also says he will come with another. 'An old man with a young face, standing beside the other.' Would this be your friend?"

Surprised, the Doctor nodded. "Yes. Yes, that would be him. A very...perceptive description of him." He frowned. The cold was finally beginning to reach through his coat and he shivered. "Look, I'm getting rather worried about him. Can you possibly help me to find Methos?"

The long bearded redhead nodded. "Yes. You may travel with the hunters as they go to the Strangers' castle tonight. They will help you search for your friend." His eyes had gone soft with compassion. "They always find us, and so we know they will find your friend."

"You travel at night?" asked the Doctor, astonished. With the thick cloud cover, it would be nearly impossible to see.

"The light is shortening as winter comes across the land. The hunters would have left sooner, but they wanted to see you first, Shadow Walker." He shrugged expressively, the first bit of body language the Doctor had seen him express that had said anything other than complete wisdom. "It will not be full dark until you arrive, and we will send light with you." His eyes glittered in the shadows. "We do not fear the dark, Shadow Walker."

* * *

Deep in the Finder complex, Communicator Tosk sat in the midst of his favorite technological toys. The glow of the main console illuminated his face from the side, but he was not paying it any attention. It was the secondary communication console that interested him now. Barely an hour ago, Finder Savrek had brought some very disturbing news that Leader Kallan was not following procedure. Kallan had brought an intruder into the complex and refused to allow Tosk to question the prisoner. Indeed, the intruder was no longer a prisoner. Once Kallan had met the man, he had pronounced him an honored guest and given him the run of the facilites.

Worse still, he had allowed the man to carry a weapon.

Tosk smiled grimly. The Daleks would not be happy. Granted, they rarely were happy about anything. But this would finish Kallan for sure. From the very first day Kallan had met with the Dalek high command, Tosk had known the strange human to be a risk. Although the idea of using a telepathic community as a sort of gestalt data store was a novel and potentially brilliant idea, a quick background check had revealed Kallan's complete lack of training in the fields of psionics, xenoneurology, and psychocomputation.

No problem, Kallan had said.

Desperate for a solution to the Movellan stalemate, and eager for the chance to finally have a computer that the Movellans, with their robotic brains, could never hope to access, the Daleks had granted Kallan's request to send a crack Finder team. Under Kallan's direction, they had collected a small group of some of the best researchers in their fields. A xenobiolgist, Fixer Martin. A sociopsychologist specializing in gestalt cultures, Finder Vorna. A computer expert and virtual reality interface designer, Finder Savrek. All three came from Kylak 5, a world firmly under Dalek control.

But what about Kallan?

Even then, Tosk had expressed his mistrust of the strange human. There was no record of Kallan's birth, no educational background, no employment history, no medical background... Not even a tax record. Not in the Galactic Federation, anyway. Kallan claimed to have been an orphan raised by Draconians, but even the Draconian Empire had no record of him. And to make the suspicions even worse, the last planet on which he had been seen was Pixa 2, a planet under the protection of the Space Corps Auxilliaries, a military organization who spent most of their time killing Daleks.

If Kallan came from anywhere, reasoned Tosk, it was from the Galactic Federation. And if he were an Auxie working undercover, attempting to undermine the Dalek cause from within... Well, there was a reason Tosk had petitioned to be the Dalek liason for the team. Ever suspicious, the Daleks had quickly approved the request. Tosk was their eyes and ears on Riga 3. He'd spent the last six years watching Kallan, breeding suspicions with no evidence.

But now it looked as if all the suspicions were true.

A human lands on Riga 3, dozens of light years from even the most remote and untravelled shipping lanes. He claims it is by accident. But when Kallan meets this human, he immediately recognizes him as an ally. Why? Tosk smiled grimly. It could only be that this Adam Pierson was another Auxie spy. A Dalek Killer meeting his contact on Riga 3. And that contact could only be Kallan.

Cracking his knuckles, Tosk set to work at the communications console. A connection had already been initiated with the Federation records datastore on Ganymede, back in the Sol system. Since his past searches on Kallan had proven fruitless, perhaps it was time to check on the mysterious newcomer.

"Let's find out who you really are, Mister Pierson."

* * *

The cold wind wasn't bothering the Doctor anymore as he followed the soft glowing light carried by the hunting party as they walked across the grassland. A Tolloc hunter named Akain had given him a shawl made from the skin of a strange, soft-furred creature that Akain had called a "snoweater." Apparently, the snoweaters comprised most of the Tolloc diet during the winter months. With the birds of summer gone away and the plants falling into hibernation for the long prairie winter, the Tolloc had very little to eat until the snoweaters returned. Therefore, they were petitioning the Strangers for food.

The Strangers had fed them the previous autumn as well, from their abundant supply of synthesized consumables. But this time, the Tolloc were travelling with two other purposes in mind. One: to ask the Strangers about the Doctor's friend, Methos. Two: to request the return of Nala, a Tolloc woman who had apparently been abducted by the Strangers and who now had to return for some ceremony.

"Akain," called the Doctor. The tall, slender Tolloc fell back to walk alongside the Time Lord.

"Yes, Shadow Walker?"

"Who is Nala?"

Akain nodded sagely. "Nala, Librarian of the Tolloc. It is Nala who keeps our records, our stories, our knowledge. Even the Elders cannot gain access to our wisdom without her."

"Librarian?" ask the Doctor, surprised. "I hadn't thought you Tolloc to be bookish types."

"Bookish?" asked Akain. In the glow of the light he carried, the Doctor could see Akain draw his brows together quizically.

"Yes. You know, a book. Codex. Scroll. The written word."

Akain shook his head. "I know nothing of these things. Perhaps the Strangers know of what you speak."

The Doctor tried again. "If she's your librarian, how is your history recorded? What do you write it on?"

The hunter smiled. "It is remembered."

"By whom?" asked the Doctor. "By all of you?"

"No," said Akain, shaking his head decisively. "By the Tolloc. The Tolloc mind remembers. It remembers all that we have forgotten." The hunter paused, peering deeply and inscrutably into the Doctor's eyes. "If a book is that which keeps records, then Nala is the one who opens that book."

The Doctor's eyes widened and he smiled, delighted. He understood. "A group mind! You, you...you're telepathic, right?" He did not wait for Akain to respond. "You share memories, thoughts, dreams... Yes! No wonder a group of strangers might come to this world. They're probably researchers! Anthropologists, studying a remarkable evolutionary adaptation allowing the preservation of culture without the written word! Amazing..."

Throughout the Doctor's excited outburst, Akain only smiled.

* * *

The speedwell depths of Nala's eyes gave Methos no answer. There was a glitter in those eyes, but he could not read it. He could tell she was laughing inside, but there was something else, something hidden from him and his five thousand years of experience in reading faces. For a moment, he almost imagined he could feel a tickle in the back of his mind, almost as if she were trying to talk to him, using the telepathic abilities Kallan had spoken of. But it was gone very quickly, and was in case too faint to be anything but wishful thinking.

"Who are you?" he asked Nala.

She laughed out loud. "You already know," she replied.

"Yes, I know your name is Nala," said Methos, "but that's not what I meant."

"I know," she said, her unquenchable smile still sitting lightly on her lips.

Kallan put a hand on Methos' shoulder. "You'll get nothing more out of her than I did," he said.

"Well, it's worth a try," said Methos, but he rose anyway. "Why are you so interested in her particularily?"

The younger Immortal smiled. "Because she is the Librarian. She's the key to making our biological data storage device."

Methos frowned. "But I thought that was only the Dalek plan. What are you really after, Kallan?"

"Surely," said Kallan, "you've noticed the curious calm that pervades the landscape of this world."

Methos nodded. "Yes. Like Siberia before the Soviets took over."

Kallan frowned. "Soviets?"

"Probably before your time," he muttered.

"Just how old..."

Methos interrupted. "But what difference does it make about the land? Why are the Tolloc so important?"

"They share the same mind, Adam." Kallan smiled. "There's an enormous power there, just waiting to be tapped. And I don't mean just their individual Quickenings," he said quickly. "I've managed to establish that their greatest power is communal. They have this extraordinary gestalt mind. The Daleks want to enslave that mind, use it to store their battle plans." Kallan laughed softly. "Such a waste..."

The younger Immortal trailed off, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

"And you?" Methos prompted gently. "What do you want with the Tolloc?"

Kallan's eyes glittered. "You'll find out the details later. She's still the key, and must be kept alive at all costs."

Methos chuckled. "Well, that shouldn't be difficult, anyway. I doubt she'll be receiving any challenges anytime soon." He looked down at Nala, who was staring back up at him with the same unnerving smile, clearly very amused by something he couldn't perceive. The smile grew as he watched her, but still she said nothing.

The laboratory doors opened. A woman in her mid-forties entered the room, glancing cautiously at Methos while approaching Kallan.

"Leader Kallan, I have news for you," she said.

Kallan smiled at Methos. "Adam, allow me to introduce Finder Vorna. She's our sociopsychologist. Much of her work has been in gestalt cultures." He turned to Vorna, who was scowling. "Vorna, please welcome Adam Pierson to our facility."

For several seconds, Vorna did not reply. Then, finally, she extended a hand to Methos. "Greetings, Mister Pierson. I hope that whatever difficulties may have brought you here will speedily resolve themselves."

The formality of the reply did not surprise Methos; she seemed to distrust him, which made perfect sense considering the remoteness of their location. It was probably a billion-to-one chance of the TARDIS choosing this world to land on, so naturally she would suspect him. Perhaps Kallan's ready acceptance of Methos was making the employees suspicious.

But Vorna didn't seem to be paying Methos any more attention. She had turned to face Kallan, in a surprisingly final way - Methos wasn't used to getting such a definitive cold shoulder. "Leader Kallan," she said, smoothly and precisely, "the Tolloc hunting party is almost here."

"Hunting party?" interjected Methos, but he was ignored.

"They have sent more hunters than they typically do," she continued, unfazed. "I believe caution is indicated."

"Any idea why they came in force?" asked Kallan.

"I think they want Nala back." Vorna sighed, and for a moment Methos realized that she was rather attractive. "She's run twice this week, after all. I can only guess at what they might need her for."

All three turned to face the Librarian. She smiled pleasantly at them, seemingly oblivious to it all.

* * *

A monitor was shining in the darkness, reflected in Tosk's glittering dark eyes. The Federation database had found a match, but in a most unexpected location.

Adam Pierson was known to the Watchers.

Tosk's eyes widened as he read the record before him. Adam Pierson was known to the shadowy historical society, but the information was alarmingly vague. Little was known about the Watchers in general, save that they had earned the dubious honor of being labelled an enemy of the Dalek race. Several hundred years ago, a Watcher colony had been completely eradicated by the Daleks. Although the Watchers claimed to be neutral observers only, they had allied themselves with a particularily nasty group of Dalek Killers and attempted to reclaim the planet. Their strike force was destroyed, of course, but not before rendering the planet completely unusuable to the Daleks.

In retaliation, the Daleks had tried to target the secret society, but every time they located a Watcher colony or even a Watcher starship, the Watchers themselves would be long gone, and all their data with them. In the end, the Dalek-Movellan Wars took the Dalek interest away from humans in general, and particularily from hard-to-find human historical societies.

Still...

For centuries, the Watchers had given up, or seemed to have given up, on ever reclaiming the colony. The Daleks had lost interest in it; with no life to enslave, there was little left of use to them. It wasn't as if the planet had any real mineral wealth or other tactical advantage as a staging ground. But for some reason the Federation now had a file on them, and this file included Adam Pierson.

"You're finished, Kallan," whispered the Communicator. Smiling with a grim joy, he initiated a connection to Dalek High Command. "And as for your friend, Mister Pierson..."

Tosk laughed. He couldn't be sure what the Daleks would do with the two spies, but it would be a pleasure finding out.

.

(c) _2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	6. Episode 6

**EPISODE SIX: Daleks**

* * *

It was full dark, contrary to what the Tolloc elders had promised. Or at least as close to full dark as made no difference, the Doctor reflected. Maybe it got darker still on this curious world, so empty, yet so full of life...

The group had reached the Strangers' castle. Well, it wasn't much of a castle, although the Doctor supposed that was how it looked to the Tolloc. Until the Strangers had arrived, the Tolloc hadn't seen any buildings larger than one of their turf huts. To him the "castle" looked quite different. It was clearly a prefabricated building, probably dropped from a mothership when the team had first arrived, since it looked too solid to have come down in very many pieces.

The construction of the building was very simple, and not very helpful to the Doctor. He'd seen hundreds of cultures develop buildings like this. It did indicate that the Strangers clearly had interstellar freighters at their disposal; a scout ship could never transport a building of this size. It also looked self-sustaining - wherever the mothership was, it had probably long since left to make other runs. The building would house a research team, possibly here to study the strange race that inhabited it, or to assess the world's mineral potential. Certainly they weren't here for the view. Riga 3 had a strange, peaceful sort of beauty. Nobody would fund a mission just for that.

The Doctor chuckled. Those sorts of people never knew what they were missing.

Akain put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. He turned to look at the Tolloc hunter and saw that he was smiling as always.

"We have arrived," he said.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, I'd noticed."

"The Strangers will send someone to meet us," said Akain.

"Good," said the Doctor.

Akain fell silent. Around them, the small group of Tolloc were shifting into more comfortable positions. Some were sitting down next to their lamps. Others stared into the endless dark of the overcast plains. None were looking at the building.

That in itself was odd, the Doctor realized. Here were a group of skilled hunters, all armed with bone knives, throwing spears, and lariats, gathered within spitting distance of a prefab fortress in which one of their own was being held against her will . . . and they weren't even watching their backs. Either they were incredibly trusting, or the Strangers had done something to earn such trust.

Given that the Strangers had abducted Nala, that didn't seem likely.

Still, the Strangers gave them food every autumn, helping them through the difficult time between seasons. That had to count for something.

Not enough, though. The Doctor shook his head, confused. The Tolloc certainly smiled a lot, and that could easily fool someone into thinking them simple, or at least horribly naive. But it just didn't seem right to the Doctor. Their trust wasn't based on innocence. There was more to it than that.

But the Doctor just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

* * *

Vorna speed-walked down the corridor towards Martin's office. Her footfalls echoed hollowly off the brushed-steel walls, and her thoughts echoed equally in her mind. Savrek was already talking to Martin, but it was time they all got together to figure out exactly what they were going to do about all this. But she had no idea how much time they had, nor how much damage Savrek had done by telling Communicator Tosk about the problems.

It was all going much too fast. Kallan seemed to have lost interest in the project, a highly suspicious stranger named Adam Pierson had arrived, Savrek had alerted Tosk, Tosk had probably alerted the Daleks, and now, on top of it all, the Tolloc had arrived for their annual food donation. Kallan was already en route to meet with them, and was bringing that Pierson fellow along.

Blast the man! What was Kallan thinking? And Savrek, with his youthful innocence, might have sealed their fates permanently.

She had reached Martin's office. She could hear shouting on the other side of the door. Bracing herself, she pushed open the door and stepped into the office.

Fixer Martin was fuming. Presumably Savrek had brought him up to speed with the latest events. At least, that was probably the case judging by the look of pure venom he was giving Savrek. Like Vorna, Martin had worked for the Daleks before. He knew that it was virtually suicide to announce failure.

Martin turned his venomous glare on Vorna, but relaxed slightly when he recognized her.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asked.

Martin shook his head. "No. No, you're just in time," he said, glaring at Savrek again. The younger Finder squirmed visibly. Martin sighed. "Savrek filled me in on current events." He sagged visibly. Vorna decided she was going to kill Savrek. The little twit probably had no idea what kind of strain he was putting on the old Fixer. "And I was so close!" Martin said, his eyes fixing Vorna with an earnest stare.

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open with surprise. So he'd finally managed to make it work, after all this time. It figured, but it could save their necks. Assuming they could minimize the damage from the security violation. "You mean..."

"Yes," said Martin. "I've managed to modify a Kaled mutant to detect and emit the same sorts of signals as the Tolloc." He smiled faintly. "Unfortunately, Nala killed the thing before I was able to really test it. Then again, it might explain why she stole it."

Vorna nodded. It made sense. She had probably sensed that it was somehow connected to her, linked into their peculiar gestalt. Vorna grinned sardonically. "Maybe you should consider her attempted escape as a successful test."

Martin didn't smile back. Instead, he collapsed heavily into his desk chair and shook his head tiredly. "A test is never successful if you don't collect data properly. You're a scientist, Vorna. Surely you realize this."

"It was a joke," she said, inadequately.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Savrek, quiet until now, finally broke it. "Look, if you two are quite finished wasting your breath, we really should discuss what we're going to do about Kallan."

Martin gazed wearily at Savrek. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

Sensing that a battle might break out again, Vorna interrupted. "Savrek's right; we don't have time to argue." Savrek smirked, but Vorna glared at him. "Tosk has certainly notified the Daleks by now. They'll have sent a team our way. They might even be in the Riga system already. What we need to do is work out how we're going to explain the situation to them."

"What's to explain?" asked Savrek. He threw up his hands. "Kallan's an arrogant bastard who probably was more interested in his paycheck than the product. He's stalled the project for six years, and now it's payback time."

Vorna shook her head. "It's not that simple. The Daleks are paranoid. They'll want to know why we didn't do anything sooner to stop Kallan. They'll want to know why we ourselves haven't produced anything. That's why Martin's modified Kaled is so important. We can use it to prove that we haven't been idle, to prove that we have worked in good faith." She sighed. "If we do it right, the Daleks will let us come home. Or even finish the project properly. The only trick will be getting Kallan to take the fall."

Martin nodded. "Then it's decided."

"Finally," grumbled Savrek. "It's exactly what I've been saying all along. We need to come clean with the customers and tell them that Kallan's to blame for all of it."

Vorna shook her head. "It's not as simple as it seems, Savrek. We've got to let the Daleks come to the right conclusions themselves. They don't like apologies; only abject obedience impresses them."

"They're not stupid as you think," said Savrek.

"No," replied Vorna. "They're not as stupid as *you* think."

Vorna and Savrek held one another's eyes for a long time. Then Martin interrupted. "If we're going to be ready when the Daleks get here, we'd better go to the lab and check on Nala. If we're really lucky, one of the other modified specimens will be mature enough to interface with her."

Vorna nodded. "Then let's get going."

* * *

"Interesting," said Kallan, his voice inscrutable.

The mysterious Immortal had led Methos to a window near the main doors of the base. Outside, the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the faces of the Tolloc people. At a glance, Methos decided there were perhaps a dozen of them. "What's interesting?" he asked Kallan.

"The Tolloc have a friend. Look."

Methos gazed carefully at the hunting party. Most were keeping still, either sitting or standing in a relaxed position, facing generally away from the base. They were all armed with crude weapons that didn't look as if they stand up to much of anything. And in any case, they weren't watching their sixes. Definitely not warriors.

He didn't know what Kallan found so interesting until he spotted the one that was staring straight at the main entrance, shifting his lantern from hand to hand impatiently. The tails of a dark velvet coat were visible below the edges of the white fur shawl he was wearing.

Methos found himself smiling. That wasn't a Tolloc hunter. It was the Doctor.

He turned away from the window and found himself meeting Kallan's eyes. "So you do know the stranger." There was danger in Kallan's voice, and Methos suddenly realized with a sinking feeling that it isn't always a good idea to hold all your cards.

"Yes," Methos said. "He's . . . my pilot. And he's a terrible navigator." Maybe he could play this to his advantage, keep Kallan off his guard until he had a chance to get out of Dodge, as it were. "I said I didn't come here deliberately. You can blame him." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the window.

It seemed to satisfy Kallan, for the younger Immortal nodded and turned back to the window. "Fortunately for your friend, the Tolloc are excellent hosts. I assume he's mortal?"

That was a difficult question to answer - the Doctor was a thousand years old and had died seven times. Did that qualify as mortal or not? Would it hurt to let on just what the Doctor was?

Methos decided he could hold that card indefinitely. "He's mortal."

"Good," said Kallan. He didn't elaborate, and Methos found himself wondering yet again just what this arrogant whelp had in mind for Riga 3. He couldn't just be after Quickenings, could he?

Somehow Methos doubted that, although he had seen many Immortals who would gladly take a few dozen unprotesting heads. Unbidden, a memory bubbled up from the back of his memory and for a time was all he could see.  
*****

After Cassandra escaped from the Horsemen, Kronos had set new ground rules for Immortals in the camp. It was quite simple: the only Immortals allowed were the Horsemen themselves. So they'd rounded up the half-dozen terrified younglings that had provided them with so much amusement over the past year and put them to the sword.

The Game wasn't the same then. The four of them had worked together to systematically behead all of them before the first Quickening could start. And they had all shared in the power that had been unleashed. None of these slaves had been more than a year into their Immortality, and individually their Quickenings would hardly be worth the trouble. Which was precisely why they'd remained alive.

But together, ah, that was different. Even the Quickenings of such puny Immortals bound together and filled the Horsemen with a blazing glory they had not felt in some time. It gave them strength, it gave them power, it was *fun*, and when it ended Methos was standing over the headless corpse of a ten-year-old boy while Kronos laughed and laughed and laughed . . . .  
*****

It was little consolation that Methos had felt a twinge of guilt at the time. After three thousand years, that twinge had grown bigger, and every time he remembered, a yawning chasm in his soul grew wider and deeper. That Kronos was now dead helped a little. That Caspian was dead helped even more.

But really, it hadn't solved anything. The unexpected reunion of the Four Horsemen had been like opening a grave. Dumping bodies in the grave before closing it up again hadn't done any good. It seemed too much like desecration.

Methos shook his head to clear the grim metaphor. This wasn't the time for self-recrimination.

Kallan wasn't Kronos, at any rate - he was much too sane, and didn't seem remotely interested in controlling people. Toying with them, perhaps, but not controlling them. He lacked Kronos' raw hunger. At the moment, Kallan was examining Methos' face with interest, probably aware that he had just had a flashback and wondering what it was about.

"Memory lane, eh?" asked Kallan.

"Yes," replied Methos.

"Pleasant, I hope."

Methos didn't answer, but turned his attention to the group waiting patiently outside. It didn't make much sense to him. Obviously they had never been in the Game, and obviously they weren't warriors. But surely they'd be at least a bit suspicious of a group of complete strangers who regularily abducted tribe members. Certainly Nala was being held against her will; according to Finder Vorna, Nala had tried unsuccessfully to escape several times.

He smiled at the thought of Vorna. There was something he liked about her, even though she clearly didn't like him. That was natural - of course she'd distrust him. He certainly would, in her position. He had assumed that she'd follow them to meet the Tolloc. After all, she was supposed to be some sort of expert on their society. Then again, maybe after six years on Riga 3 the excitement had dulled.

"So, Adam," said Kallan, "how would you like to meet the universe's oldest Immortal pacifists?"

Methos smirked. "I'm all a-quiver."

Kallan smiled and went to open the door.

* * *

The Doctor was beginning to feel frustrated. The Tolloc had been waiting for some time, and yet nothing was happening. They hadn't announced their presence, and there weren't any visible cameras on the exterior of the building. Of course, he knew that didn't mean there weren't any cameras. There were lots of ways to conceal remote sensing equipment, and certainly plenty of reasons to do so.

He looked around at the Tolloc hunters, admiring the ease with which they had settled in to wait. Obviously this was how one was meant to contact the Strangers - go to their fortress and hang about the entrance. But the waiting was starting to wear on the Doctor. He was worried. Worried about Nala. Worried about the Stranger's plans for this planet. But most of all, he was worried about Methos.

Akain smiled up at him. The young hunter was sitting on one hip, his arm resting gently on an upraised knee. His entire attitude was one of total assurance that nothing could possibly go wrong.

The Doctor suddenly realized that the sense of peace was nothing unique to this planet, nor to the Tolloc culture. It was purely a result of their isolation. Like the Kinda people of Deva Loka, they had no knowledge of violence simply because they had no need of it.

Akain suddenly jumped to his feet, startling the Doctor. The smile was gone, replaced by an alertness that seemed to imply a total readiness to meet something. As the Doctor looked around at the other Tolloc, he saw that they too had jumped to their feet and become alert. None had gone for their weapons, and there was no look of threat on their faces, but they seemed to have sensed something.

Instinctively, the Doctor looked to the building's entrance. The door had silently opened, and there were two men standing in the dim light.

"It is Kallan," said Akain. "Leader of the Strangers." The smile returned to Akain's face. "He is the only Stranger who is open to us."

Open to us? wondered the Doctor. He remembered the Tolloc telling him that he was "closed" to them. Perhaps Kallan had psi talent, something that operated on the same telepathic wavelengths as the Tolloc. But then, the Doctor was also telepathic; why wasn't *he* open to them?

The smile had dropped from Akain's face, replaced by a puzzled expression. He spoke again. "The other I do not know. He is . . . ," Akain frowned in concentration. "He is . . . ."

The other man was tall and lean, and was wearing jeans and a trenchcoat. He was looking straight at the Doctor with an amused grin.

The Doctor grinned. "That's Methos."

"Your friend?" asked Akain.

"My friend," replied the Doctor.

He wanted to go up to Methos, shake his hand, ask it he was all right, but he didn't have to. Kallan and Methos were coming his way.

"Doctor!" called Methos.

The Doctor left Akain's side and strode towards his friend. "Methos?" he called.

The ancient Immortal cringed so much it was visible even in the faint light from the Tolloc lanterns. Belatedly, the Doctor remembered that Methos generally preferred to be known by a pseudonym, as his name had grown famous and tended to make him a target for headhunters.

But Kallan did not appear to recognize the name. Whether he didn't recognize the name or simply hadn't heard, the Doctor couldn't tell. "You are Adam's friend?" he asked.

The Doctor nodded. Kallan put out his hand. "I'm Kallan," he said. "Leader of this six-year Finder mission to investigate the Tolloc people of Riga 3." Relieved that his slip had gone unnoticed, the Doctor shook Kallan's hand vigorously.

"I'm delighted to meet you!" he said. "I'm the Doctor, and I'm intensely interested in what you're doing here. A planet like this, so far off the shipping lanes, must offer endless possibilities for exploration." He grinned disarmingly, hoping that his babble would have the desired effect.

It did. Kallan grinned back. "So you're a scientist, Doctor?"

"Well, I dabble a bit."

"Adam only said you were a pilot." The Doctor chuckled. It was a reasonable description. "But we mustn't waste time with pleasantries. I believe the Tolloc want something."

On that cue, Akain stepped forwards. "Yes," he said simply. "We await Nala. We will not leave without her."

Methos met the Doctor's eye. He seemed to know what Akain was talking about; perhaps he knew more about the Stranger's plan, and knew just why they'd kept Nala imprisoned. Despite the calm assurance of Akain's voice, the Doctor felt skeptical that the Strangers would release Nala. Obviously she was some kind of a test subject, or perhaps a hostage. This could get dicey.

Then Kallan nodded. "Quite reasonable," he said. "If you'll all follow me, I'll return her to you."

Astonished, the Doctor stared at Kallan. After six years of kidnapping Tolloc people without so much as a by-your-leave, he was releasing Nala simply because the Tolloc had asked nicely?

Maybe Methos knew something the Doctor didn't. He looked at the ancient Immortal, but Methos was just as astonished as he was, staring open-mouthed at Kallan. Even the Tolloc appeared surprised, as they had come prepared to wait a long time.

Then a deep, pulsing sound interrupted everyone's astonishment. The Doctor recognized it as the descent engines of a light cruiser. He looked up into the sky, but could see nothing past the impenetrable blackness of Riga 3's perpetual cloud cover.

Kallan also recognized it. Instinctively, he had also looked up and muttered something. When he looked down, he had a very worried expression on his face. He scanned the Tolloc, then nodded sharply. The worry on his face was replaced by determination.

"Come," he said, directing the word to all present. "We haven't much time left. You have to come with me."

* * *

If Tosk were watching the action below, he would have been very angry. But he wasn't, and he was in a very good mood. The nonsense of the past six years would soon be at an end. He grinned viciously into the dark, cloudy night of Riga 3 from his vantage point in the safety booth on the roof of the building. The Dalek cruiser was about to arrive.

Its transponder had first registered on the security scanner half an hour ago. By then, the cruiser had already switched off its main ion drive and switched to impulse engines to handle the descent. Tosk had immediately recognized the transponder signal and activated the landing beacon.

He grinned. Kallan and his worthless staff would soon be dealt with. Their employers were about to arrive.

The tracking console in the safety booth was showing the cruiser's descent track. As he watched, the cruiser overflew the base to bleed off the last of its excess velocity, then looped around to complete the landing.

Tosk turned on the floodlights. Seconds later, the plumes of gases from the cruiser's descent engines became visible. Seconds after that, the cruiser itself gently floated down into the light. It lowered itself delicately towards the pad, extended its landing gear, then cut the engines. It dropped the remaining meter, and Tosk watched in admiration as the landing gear completely absorbed the shock of touchdown. The body of the craft lowered itself to the pad surface and then was silent.

Tosk emerged from the safety booth and cast a critical eye over the Dalek cruiser.

It had none of the blocky utilitarian qualities of a Dalek shuttlecraft. Instead, it had the sleek lines of a craft designed to maneuver easily in or out of an atmosphere. Tosk's admiration grew. As a communicator, he rarely saw even light battlecruisers like this one. Normally, a shuttle or occasionally a freighter would suffice. He'd travelled to Riga 3 in the company of only a handful of Daleks, operating a supra-light-speed frieghter that had few asthetic qualities. This was a welcome sight.

A panel swung down from the nose of the cruiser. Tosk brought himself stiffly to attention. The panel came down gently to rest on the surface of the pad, becoming a gentle ramp. A slow smile spread across Tosk's face.

Smoothly, silently, two grey Daleks glided side-by-side down the ramp. Two more followed. At the bottom, they separated to allow a fifth Dalek to glide down between them. This one was black. Under the current paint scheme, Tosk knew the grey Daleks were the equivalent of footsoldiers, and the black Dalek was their captain.

The black Dalek approached him. He did not move, waiting for the Dalek to give him leave to speak.

"YOU ARE COMMUNICATOR TOSK." The Dalek's voice was characteristically harsh and tinny, and characteristically declarative. Daleks rarely asked questions; they usually simply stated things and waited for those present to affirm or deny the statement.

"Affirmative," he replied, inclining his head briefly.

"WE HAVE BEEN SENT BY DALEK HIGH COMMAND TO INVESTIGATE THE SITUATION AND RESPOND APPROPRIATELY. YOU WILL REPORT DIRECTLY TO ME."

"I obey," replied Tosk, bending deeply at the waist. The submissive display seemed to please the black Dalek.

"CONFIRM: FINDER LEADER KALLAN IS A TRAITOR TO THE DALEK RACE."

"Confirmed," said Tosk. "He had no intention of completing his mission."

"CONFIRM: AN UNAUTHORIZED CRAFT MADE PLANETFALL ON RIGA 3. ONE HUMAN FROM THE UNAUTHORIZED CRAFT HAS MADE CONTACT WITH LEADER KALLAN."

"Confirmed," repeated Tosk. "He is identified as Adam Pierson. Both he and Leader Kallan are known to the Watchers."

"THE WATCHERS ARE ENEMIES OF THE DALEK RACE!" Tosk had expected that response, and he found the sudden passion in the black Dalek's voice to be delicious. "THEY MUST BE FOUND AND EXTERMINATED! EXTERMINATE THE WATCHERS! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

The other Daleks joined the cry. Tosk was grinning ear to ear.

Kallan was going to have a very nasty surprise.

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	7. Episode 7

**EPISODE SEVEN: Capture**

* * *

The Tolloc followed Kallan through the hallways of the Finder base. The warm illumination inside the base was a welcome relief after the gloomy darkness outside. The warmth was also welcome, the Doctor reflected as he shedded the fur cloak Akain had given him. The Tolloc hunter grinned as he took the cloak from him. "Come," said Akain. "We must keep up with the others."

"Yes," replied the Doctor. "I expect you'll be glad to see Nala again."

Akain nodded blissfully. "She is our Librarian," he said, as if that explained everything.

And perhaps it did, the Doctor realized. These people were telepathic. Perhaps they had some sort of gestalt consciousness. Nala might be the one who could access that consciousness, drawing out race memories as a librarian draws out books.

It made sense, the Doctor realized, but somehow it still didn't seem quite right. There was something missing. Something important. And whatever it was, Kallan was willing to go to a lot of trouble to secure it. The Doctor didn't believe this was purely a scientific mission.

The group stopped. They had arrived at their destination, whatever that might be. Ahead, a door slid gently open, and the Doctor followed the Tolloc into a what turned out to be a very well-stocked laboratory.

"Well," said the Doctor as he cast a critical eye over the contents of the lab, "you certainly came prepared."

Kallan met the Doctor's eye. There was a sharpness in the man's gaze that the Doctor didn't like at all. "And what do you mean by that, Doctor?"

The Doctor smiled disarmingly. "Nothing. Just that you seem to have gone to a lot of effort to learn all you can about the Tolloc. Why them? This planet can't possibly have any real value for colonization, not this far from the shipping lanes."

Kallan smiled. "Why do you care? Were the two of you planning on setting up a colony of your own, or do you know of some mineral wealth that my scanners couldn't find?"

"Oh, of course not!" said the Doctor. "I'm just curious."

Kallan stopped smiling. "I have no intention of exploiting the native resources of Riga 3." And he turned away from the Doctor.

There had been a curious finality to Kallan's voice, and the Doctor wondered very much what it meant. It sounded suspiciously like a non-answer, and the Doctor didn't like that at all. Kallan didn't want Riga 3 - but he clearly wanted something from the Tolloc. Didn't they qualify as a native resource?

The Doctor looked for Methos. The ancient Immortal was standing on the other side of the room. He had a strange expression on his face and was watching Kallan intently as if waiting for the researcher to make the wrong move. The Doctor had to find out what Methos knew about all this. But he was beginning to have the sinking feeling that Methos might know little more than he did.

Kallan walked to the end of the lab and the Doctor followed. A woman was standing there. She wore a radio collar, presumably to help the researchers keep track of her. By her dress, she was clearly a Tolloc. Presumably, this was Nala.

She smiled blissfully at everyone. The Doctor frowned. According to Akain, she had been held here against her will for months. Shouldn't she be happier to see her friends? She was clearly happy, but it was the same sort of peaceful bliss as the Doctor had already seen on the rest of the Tolloc. Did nothing bother these people?

The door of the laboratory burst open and three of Kallan's people stormed through, obviously quite angry. There were two men and one woman. The woman led. "Kallan, you can't do it!" she shouted.

Kallan did not immediately answer, but removed Nala's collar.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Kallan?" This came from the older of the two men. "Do you realize what the Daleks will think of this?"

The Doctor's eyes widened. The Daleks were behind this? Strange they would rely on a purely human research team. Either they were desperate, or they didn't much care about the results.

Kallan still had not answered, and the younger man lost patience. "Kallan!" he shouted. "You've wasted all our time, and now you're going to throw away our only test subject?"

Finally Kallan turned. He wasn't smiling, although Nala still was. "Yes, Savrek," he said. "I have wasted your time. And I apologize. But it was necessary."

Savrek shook his head in amazement. "Necessary for what?"

Kallan did not answer. In the brief silence, Nala stepped between them and crossed the room to meet her tribe.

"Nala," said Akain.

"Akain," she replied. "One is many and many is one."

Akain bowed his head briefly. "It is time, Nala. Iktha has seen it."

She nodded, apparently unsurprised by the news.

The Finders were staring at Nala. "Iktha?" said Savrek. "That young brat?" The Doctor frowned. Iktha had seemed like a lot of things, but certainly not a brat. The child had been well-mannered and curiously wise beyond his years. But not a brat.

Nala spoke. "Iktha is our Dreamer. He sees into the grayness outside our time and space."

"Precognition!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Yes! Your people, you are time sensitive?"

Nala cocked her head to one side. "Time sensitive? I do not understand."

"You feel time," explained the Doctor.

She shook her head. "No. There is no time. There is only Tolloc time. But that will end. We do not see beyond it, but Iktha dreams what will come after."

The Doctor nodded. "So not time sensitive . . . but with a bit of clairvoyance in one of your people. Yes! The combined mental energies of all the Tolloc would be focused in him, in Iktha. Yes . . . ."

He suddenly became aware that everyone was watching him. Kallan, Methos, the Tolloc, and the three new Finders. Savrek spoke first. "So," he said, "we let the real power go when we freed Iktha, and wasted our time on this bitch Nala." There was a definite anger in his voice, but it wasn't directed at the Doctor. Savrek turned to face Kallan. He all but spat at his leader. "You're finished, Kallan."

Without another word, Savrek bolted from the lab.

* * *

Tosk rode the elevator down from the roof with the black Dalek and two gray Daleks. There wasn't enough room for the entire strike team to ride together, and it probably wasn't necessary anyway - apart from himself, none of the Finders were armed. Even if they were, they had all been born on Dalek-controlled worlds, and knew the futility of rebellion.

All except for Kallan, that is. Tosk had used his time waiting for the Dalek team to investigate the man in greater detail. He still hadn't managed to find out where he was from. All he knew was that Kallan was a human like himself. But he was getting the nagging suspicion that Kallan might have some connection to the devastated world of Tarnac. He had mentioned part of his childhood spent with Draconians, and Tarnac was very close to Draconian territory. And his new friend Pierson was known to the Watchers . . . .

It wasn't adding up to anything pleasant. Still, he had found out before any damage could be done, and his masters were clearly pleased. That was all that mattered.

The elevator came to a stop on the main level of the building. Tosk emerged first and then stepped aside so the black Dalek could glide out in front of him. It came to a halt as its two soldiers took up defensive positions and scanned the corridor. Tosk watched in amusement as their domes rotated around a full 360 degrees to check all sides for hostiles.

"Shall I find Leader Kallan for you?" asked Tosk.

"NEGATIVE," replied the black Dalek. "KALLAN AND THE UNIDENTIFIED HUMAN INTRUDER WILL BE DEALT WITH LATER. OUR FIRST OBJECTIVE IS TO SECURE THE KALED SPECIMENS AND THE RESEARCH MATERIAL. TAKE US TO THE MAIN LABORATORY."

"I obey." Tosk bowed deeply, then lead the Daleks down the blank corridors of the Finder base.

* * *

"What the cruk do you think you're doing?" shouted Vorna. She couldn't believe her eyes. The Tolloc prisoner was standing in the midst of her tribesmen, well protected. Vorna knew the Tolloc were pacifists, but one look at their bone knives and their lean forms persuaded her not to test her luck. She wrenched her attention back to Kallan, who didn't even have the decency to grin like a proper melodramatic villain. "Kallan, did you hear me?"

"Of course I heard you, Vorna," he replied, somewhat testily. "But I haven't got time for this. I don't know if you noticed, but a cruiser has landed."

Vorna gaped. "You're not serious . . . ."

"Of course I'm serious," he replied, his eyes staring into Vorna's with a deadly intensity.

"He's telling the truth," said one of the Tolloc. No, not a Tolloc, Vorna corrected herself. It was another intruder, probably from the same spacecraft as Pierson. Perfect. Bloody perfect. The man was dressed even more oddly than Pierson, in a thin coat that could hardly keep out the autumn chill out on the silver prairie. He had long, wavy hair that fell around his ears in a way she couldn't help but find fetching.

She stared at him. "Who are you? What do you think you're doing here? Do you understand how much danger you've put the rest of us in?"

"I think I might," he began, but Kallan did not give him time to finish.

"Vorna," Kallan said gently. "The Daleks have arrived. We heard their descent engines when we met the Tolloc hunting party outside. I realize that I've put you into a great deal of danger by deviating from the original plan. I only hope you'll understand that I had no choice."

"No choice?" said Martin. The old Fixer was angry. Vorna sympathized. "No choice?! Look at me! I spent my entire career building up a reputation with the Daleks! They ordered, I obeyed!" Oddly, Vorna noticed the velvet-coated stranger flinch. Martin continued. "After this mission, I was finally going to retire, put my failing physique to work in a purely intellectual fashion. They were going to let me go home. Home, Kallan! After this, we'll be lucky to be alive! And you talk to me of having no choice?"

For a long moment, Kallan did not answer. No one moved, afraid to break the silence left after Martin's outburst. The Tolloc were impassive. The stranger appeared to be restraining himself from responding. Martin seemed somewhat deflated by the force of his outburst. And Kallan seemed genuinely cowed.

Then Kallan broke the silence himself. "I'm sorry, Martin. Truly. I didn't realize." Vorna stared. She couldn't believe it. Kallan sounded . . . contrite. It was so out of character for the eternally smug project leader that she found herself actually annoyed that he wasn't responding the way she'd expected. "I know the risk I have put you under, but I really had no choice. This had to be done. I only fear that it may be too late now to finish what I came here to do."

The stranger spoke. "Finish what, Kallan? Why are you working with the Daleks? What can they possibly have to offer you?"

The corner of Kallan's mouth twisted up and he turned to face the man. "Oh, Doctor, you probably wish you knew. Then again, your friend may not be so pleased when he finds out what I have in mind."

Automatically, Vorna's eyes went to Pierson. The young man's eyes had gone wide. Oddly, he didn't seem so young anymore. The quizzical look he usually had worn while in the Finder base was gone, replaced by a look of deep terror.

"Look," said the strange Doctor. "I think you've got the wrong idea about all of this. You think the Daleks can be used. You're wrong, and I fear you'll pay for it with your life."

"Maybe so," replied Kallan. He started to say something else, but he never got the chance.

The doors slid open and Savrek burst into the room again. His eyes were gleaming jubilantly. That, Vorna decided, was a very bad sign. "I'll show you all!" he said. "Our customers have arrived!"

* * *

Methos was feeling very worried. Kallan was holding more cards than he was letting on, and he had a horrible feeling that one of those cards had his name on it. Martin no longer had the calm, collected air of before, and Vorna was decidedly hostile. But what worried him most was the way the Doctor went curiously quiet whenever the word "Dalek" was mentioned. Apparently, these people were working for the Daleks. But if the Doctor was afraid of them, Methos wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what they were.

Then the door slid open, and a frazzled young man burst through. He recognized the man as Savrek, the junior member of the Finder team. He was feeling slighted for some reason. But why had he come back, after bursting out of the room in such a hurry earlier?

"I'll show you all!" he said. "Our customers have arrived!"

Through the open door came another Finder. Methos deduced that this was Communicator Tosk. The man was smiling like a righteous Inquisitor about to put the torch to a heretic's pyre. Unconsciously, Methos shivered. After him came something totally unfamiliar.

It was black, with silver half-globes around the roughly conical lower section, a mesh-covered neck, and a domed lid. Where one might approximate arms, it had two metal appendages fixed to ball-joint swivels. One was long, with a suction cup on the end. The other was short, with several rods running down its length. It swept the room with the shorter arm before entering, and Methos deduced that it was a weapon. On the dome was the creature's third appendage - a long stalk with what appeared to be a mechanical eyeball on the end.

-So this must be a Dalek, thought Methos.

He looked over at the Doctor. The Time Lord was staring at the creature with a mixture of horror and sad recognition. "A Dalek," he whispered.

The Dalek swivelled its dome around until it had fixed the Doctor in its sight. It glided further into the room. Only then did two more Daleks, these with a gray color scheme, glide into the room and allow the door to slide shut behind them.

The black Dalek came to a stop in front of Kallan, who did not flinch but smiled a serpentine smile at the Dalek. "Welcome to Riga 3," he said.

"DO NOT MOCK THE DALEKS!" It screeched out its response with a voice that sounded like a cross between broken glass and a bad vocoder. "YOU ARE A TRAITOR TO THE DALEK RACE. YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED IN DUE COURSE." It looked him up and down. Oddly, it seemed to disapprove of what it saw. "FIRST, WE MUST HAVE THE KALED SPECIMENS."

Kallan bowed, seemingly oblivious to the threat to his life. Persumably he was relying on his Immortality to save him. In Methos' opinion, he was a fool. "I obey, of course." His voice was all pleasantness. Methos didn't believe it in the least. "We lost a few specimens to the early phases of the experiment. And another was killed earlier today after it made successful telepathic contact with one of the Tolloc."

"THE LOSSES WERE EXPECTED. BUT SOME WILL HAVE SURVIVED." The screeching voice was really getting on Methos' nerves. The black Dalek turned in place until it was facing Savrek. It gestured with its weapon. "YOU WILL TAKE THE REMAINING SPECIMENS AND INSTALL THEM ON THE CRUISER." Savrek nodded enthusiastically. Perhaps too enthusiastically, thought Methos. These Daleks might not appreciate his fawning.

"Yes," said Savrek. "I obey. Right away." He immediately went to the rack of Kaled cages on the wall and began unfastening one.

Meanwhile, the Dalek moved to face Methos. He didn't allow himself to show fear. After all, what point would there be? "YOU DO NOT BELONG ON RIGA 3. IDENTIFY."

Methos swiftly pulled on the tattered remains of his Adam Pierson persona, appearing as harmless as possible to this tinpot creature. "My name's Adam Pierson."

The prompt response seemed to satisfy it. "CONFIRM: YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEK RACE."

Methos spread his hands wide in what he sincerely hoped was a universal gesture of peace. "Before today, I'd never even heard of a Dalek. How could I count a Dalek my enemy?"

"THAT IS A LIE. ALL HUMANS KNOW OF THE DALEKS. YOU ARE HUMAN. THEREFORE, YOU KNOW OF THE DALEKS. CONFIRM: YOU ARE AN ASSOCIATE OF THE WATCHERS."

This time Methos didn't have to fake his surprise. "The Watchers?" he said, quietly. How on earth did they know that? It was thousands of years into his future. How could the Daleks know that he had once been a Watcher?

Unless this had something to do with his future. In that case, was it a good thing or a bad thing that the Daleks had been able to find out about his relationship with the Watchers? He honestly didn't know.

"CONFIRM," repeated the Dalek.

"Well . . . ."

"It is confirmed," said Communicator Tosk. "There is no question. Adam Pierson is known to the Watchers."

The Dalek finally moved on, this time to the Doctor.

"YOU ALSO DO NOT BELONG. IDENTIFY."

The Doctor smiled his most charming smile. "Me? Oh, I'm just a traveller. You can call me John Smith." Methos blinked. So the Doctor was using a pseudonym. Methos glanced at Kallan, but the other Immortal said nothing about it.

"STATE YOUR PURPOSE ON RIGA 3."

"None, really," said the Doctor. "Our vehicle broke down. I've completed repairs, so if you'd prefer, we can just pop off and get out of your hair. So to speak." He grinned broadly, looking for all the world like a harmless fool.

"THAT IS A LIE. FINDER SAVREK INFORMED US OF YOUR AFFILIATION WITH ADAM PIERSON."

The Doctor shrugged. "We travelled together. And as I said, we can just pop off to our vehicle and be gone before you know it."

"NEGATIVE," said the Dalek. As if responding to an unspoken command, the two gray Daleks slid further into the room, herding everyone except for Tosk away from the door. "YOU ARE ALL NOW PRISONERS OF THE DALEKS. YOU WILL OBEY OUR COMMANDS. IF YOU DO NOT OBEY, YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED."

"Now hang on a moment," said Martin, but he fell silent when a gray Dalek pointed its weapon at him.

"YOU WILL BE SECURED HERE. COMMUNICATOR TOSK, YOU WILL ASSIST SAVREK IN REMOVING THE KALED SPECIMENS."

"I obey," said the Communicator. Somehow, his ready obedience disgusted Methos more than Kallan's effort to fool the Daleks into thinking he was still on their side. Savrek had loaded three Kaled support cages onto a cart. Tosk helped him load the remaining Kaleds.

The black Dalek faced the prisoners again. "YOU WILL REMAIN HERE. MY LIEUTENANTS WILL BE OUTSIDE THE DOOR. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE."

Tosk and Savrek pushed their cart full of cages out the door. The black Dalek followed them. The two gray Daleks were the last to leave, gliding silently backwards with their weapons still pointed at the prisoners. Methos considered rushing them, then realized that he had no idea what they were capable of. Something told him they didn't fire bullets.

The door slid shut.

There was a soft buzzing sound followed by a sharp click. Methos ran to the door, but was unsurprised when it didn't open.

"Wonderful," he said. "We're locked in here." He looked at the Doctor. "Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten me into."

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	8. Episode 8

**EPISODE EIGHT: Revelations**

* * *

Methos was seriously annoyed. This was the third time he'd been imprisoned because of the Doctor. Fourth, if you counted the time he'd been locked inside of his own head by the Master. He shivered, remembering that serpentine presence. It was not pleasant.

He'd always been a survivor. His self-preservation instinct was so strong that he'd managed to dodge the Game for nearly two hundred years. But then that curiously magnetic fool MacLeod had walked into his life. Well, perhaps "walked into" was too strong a phrase. Methos had, after all, been keeping an eye on MacLeod for a few years, via Joe Dawson' fastidious Watcher reports. He still wasn't quite sure why he'd allowed MacLeod to find him.

No, that wasn't true. He _was_ sure. He'd wanted to meet the man so many believed to be the One. He'd steeled himself for disappointment, reminding himself that greatness is generally smaller in person than in legend, but he'd been surprised. MacLeod had been even larger in person. He'd understood immediately why Joe Dawson, one of the best Watchers ever, had felt compelled to reveal himself to MacLeod. The millenia of cynicism had caught up with Methos, and he had been overwhelmed.

And so, Methos had found himself attached to the impetuous Scot, following him headlong into dangers that he'd have happily run from not five years before. But this was different. The first time he'd met the Doctor, Methos had been shot, imprisoned, and very nearly beheaded. A few years later, weary from the turmoils MacLeod had dragged him into, Methos had gone to Minnesota to visit Terri Johnson, and wound up in even worse danger, becoming possessed by an insane Time Lord.

And now he was trapped in a laboratory with dozens of completely oblivious Immortals, the Doctor, two researchers, and another Immortal who was probably psychotic, knowing his luck. And outside the door were two alien creatures who clearly would have no qualms about killing him.

Alien creatures. Methos shivered again. He had never seriously thought about aliens. He'd expected they wouldn't bother him too much, but obviously he'd been naive. These creatures didn't even have the decency to be organic. Not the sort of thing he'd expected out of his first contact with an extraterrestrial.

-Ah, but they're not your first aliens, said a little voice in the back of Methos' mind. He turned to look at the Doctor, sitting placidly at one side of the room. The Time Lord had produced a bit of yarn from his bottomless pockets and was teaching one of the Tolloc hunters how to play cat's cradle.

Methos smirked. It took two to play at that game.

That was when he realized the Doctor was looking straight at him.

* * *

"There," said Savrek. "That's the last of them."

He stood back to admire his handiwork. It had been disappointingly simple to install the Kaled support cages into what passed for a medilab on board the Dalek cruiser. He had really hoped to be more useful to them. Still, he'd given the Daleks information about Martin and Vorna's little plans. They'd be reassigned, probably lose a few ranks . . . but he'd be going up. He was young, and this was his time.

"Let's go," said Communicator Tosk. The older man seemed unimpressed by the ease of the task. Then again, he'd worked more closely with the Daleks than anybody else Savrek knew. He was probably used to this.

Savrek followed the Tosk down the ramp of the cruiser and onto the roof of their facility. The black Dalek was waiting for them. "COMMUNICATOR TOSK, YOU WILL PREPARE A SUBSPACE COMM LINK TO THE MAIN BATTLEFLEET."

"I obey," said Tosk, bowing sharply. "The task will require some time."

"THAT IS ACCOUNTED FOR. RETURN TO THE COMMUNICATIONS STATION IN THIS FACILITY AND BEGIN YOUR WORK."

Tosk bowed again, then left.

The black Dalek faced Savrek now. He puffed out his chest and drew himself to his full height, the better to demonstrate his importance to them. If they seemed unimpressed, Savrek did not notice. "What do you wish me to do?" he asked.

"YOU WILL COME WITH ME."

The black Dalek turned and glided back into the facility. Marginally puzzled but nevertheless pleased, Savrek followed.

* * *

"Are you really an Auxie spy?"

Methos looked up. It was Vorna. She was grinning the grin of the desperate. He supposed she had the right to it - after all, these Daleks appeared to be her real bosses, and they didn't seem at all pleased with events. He shook his head and shrugged apologetically. "I'm afraid not." She snorted. Methos grinned harmlessly. "Honestly, I don't even know what an Auxie is."

"Well, I suppose you could be telling the truth," she said. "But what about him?" She jerked a thumb in the Doctor's direction. "And why's Kallan been treating you like his bosom buddy?"

Methos shrugged as amusingly as possible. "Must be my natural charm."

Vorna sighed. "I'm too tired to play games, Pierson. Martin over there was just a few years from retirement. Me, I was just looking forward to getting off this godforsaken prairie planet." She grinned that horrible grin again. "Guess I'm just lucky, eh?"

Methos narrowed he eyes, but did not respond.

"I hope the Daleks exterminate you first," she said finally, and walked back to Fixer Martin's side. Martin looked up at her, but she just shook her head. The look of despair on Martin's face was almost too much. Methos knew it was somehow his fault, but it just wasn't right. He still had no idea what was going on, so how could he be expected to do the right thing?

Frustrated, he decided to get some answers from the Doctor.

The Time Lord was grinning happily as his two Tolloc friends successfully shared a game of cat's cradle. Sometimes, Methos reflected, the Doctor could be a real idiot. He was probably trying to convince Kallan that he was harmless, but it still struck Methos as a little ridiculous.

He stood and walked over to the Doctor, stopping only inches away so that he was looking down his full height at the Time Lord.

"So, Doctor, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

The Doctor looked up at Methos. "Where would you like me to start?"

"Daleks," said Methos.

"Ah," replied the Doctor. "Well, I've met them before, but they don't seem to remember. It's probably just as well." The Doctor frowned briefly, a troubled look on his face. "I can't think what they'd want with Riga 3. As far as I can tell, it hasn't any particular mineral value, and it's far too remote to have any tactical significance in their war with the Movellans."

"Yes, Kallan mentioned the Movellans."

The Doctor nodded. "If he's working for the Daleks, I'm not surprised. The Dalek-Movellan war should be nearing its peak soon. They're in a stalemate, you see. Two equally logical armies equally set on conquering the universe, and equally unable to tolerate any competition. Every move the one makes the other counters. Neither advances, and neither retreats."

"Sounds as if they were made for each other," quipped Methos.

The Doctor grinned. "You might say that." The grin dropped. "They're cold, ruthless, and totally unafraid."

Unexpectedly, Kallan spoke up. "I'm not so sure of that, Doctor."

The Time Lord fixed Kallan with his eyes. Methos watched, slightly amused. He'd been fixed by that gaze before. "What do you mean, Kallan? How much experience of Daleks did you have before you agreed to enslave yourself to them? Did you have the slightest notion what you were getting into?"

Kallan looked shocked, and for the moment was at a loss for words.

The Doctor didn't let that bother him. "Your team has been here some time," he said, gesturing to include Vorna and Martin. "You've been studying the Tolloc, feeding them through the winter and providing them with medical assistance no doubt." Methos raised an eyebrow at that, knowing that the Tolloc couldn't possibly have needed medical assistance of any kind. They were Immortal, after all. Obviously they hadn't let the Doctor in on that bit of information. Then again, did they even understand?

"Please," said Kallan, clearly annoyed. "Get to the point."

"You're not studying the mineral wealth of Riga 3, and you're not preparing this world for Dalek colonization. So what in Rassilon's name are you planning for the Tolloc?"

Kallan did not answer, but allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. "Walls have ears, my friend." He met Methos' eye for a moment, but said no more.

Surprisingly, it was Martin who gave the Doctor his answer. "The Tolloc are a gestalt society. It was hoped that we could modify a Kaled to join their gestalt."

The Doctor looked horrified. "A Kaled? In with the Tolloc? It would drive them mad!"

Martin shrugged. The old Fixer looked very tired. "Nala is their Librarian. She stores all the memories of their race. We were hoping to use that as sort of a data storage system."

"What?!" shouted the Doctor. "An entire race reduced to a disk drive for the most homicidal race in the Universe? Do you have any idea at all what you'd be subjecting them to?"

"Easy, Doctor," said Kallan. "There's no sense getting all excited about it now. It wouldn't have worked anyway."

Vorna sputtered furiously. "You mean to say we've spent the last six years for _nothing_?"

Kallan nodded apologetically. "Yes. I'm sorry, Vorna, but the deception was neccesary."

"Deception!" she shouted. "For what? We're all going to die, do you realize that? The Daleks will exterminate us for sure!"

Kallan shrugged, but said nothing.

Methos watched the unfolding revelations of deceit with interest. He'd known, of course, that Kallan had his own plans for the Tolloc, but he couldn't help pitying Vorna and Martin. They were obviously going to take the fall, and it was hardly their fault. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And talking about being in the wrong place . . . .

"Doctor?" said Methos. "Do you have any idea how we might get out of here? Ideally with all appendages intact."

The Doctor pulled his eyes away from the furious Vorna. "Well, the Daleks did lock us up in a laboratory." He grinned mischeivously. "I'm sure I can think of something."

"No good," said Martin, quite unexpectedly. "It's my lab, remember. I keep all the dangerous stuff locked up. By now, Tosk will have removed my authorization to unlock the cabinets. And don't think about breaking into them; you won't be able to do that without alerting the guards." He sighed deeply.

Vorna looked thoughtful suddenly. "Wait a minute . . . . Nala escaped from here a number of times, even after we'd added the bolts on the doors. How did she keep getting out of here?"

All eyes turned to the Librarian of the Tolloc, who smiled placidly back at them.

* * *

The one thing that made Nala different from everbody else in the room, the Doctor reflected, was her size. She was quite slight, and in fact reminded him a lot of Sarah Jane Smith, only without the aggressive instincts of an investigative journalist. Even so, he was quite surprised to watch as she slipped effortlessly through a small ventilation grating near the floor, letting herself out into the main corridor. By his estimation, this put Nala around the corner from their Dalek guards and thus safely out of sight.

The Doctor pressed his ear to the door. Within seconds, he heard the Dalek guards screeching for Nala to halt. The ruse worked, and the Daleks left, pursuing the fleet-footed Nala away from the laboratory.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and had the door open in seconds. He chuckled inwardly; electronic devices were often laughably to trip with a good sonic screwdriver.

"Good work," said Kallan. He was obviously impressed, but doing an excellent job of hiding it. He lead the group out through the door into the deserted corridor. "Nala will be leading the Daleks towards the main entrance. We'll go for one of the emergency exits."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "You can't mean we're going to leave Nala to the Daleks! I thought you wanted to save her, not guarantee her death!"

Kallan shook his head vehemently. "Trust me, Doctor. She'll be all right."

Vorna laughed shortly. "She'll be all right if she likes being dead. The Daleks won't trade her life for yours, Kallan."

Kallan nodded. "I know, Vorna, believe me." There was an earnestness in his voice that seemed to startle the woman, as if it weren't quite in character for her leader. She frowned supiciously, but accepted this, apparently at face value.

So the Doctor spoke up. "No, Kallan, she won't be all right. I know the Daleks better than any of you. They'll be itching to exerminate something by now, and she'll suit the purpose perfectly." He paused, and a horrible thought occured to him. "Wait . . . . Is there some other reason they won't kill her? Are _they_ the natural resource of this planet which you came to exploit?" He paused one last time for dramatic emphasis. "Are they to become Daleks, Kallan?"

The man's face paled dramatically, and he took a step back, genuinely horrified. "No, by the great protector, no . . . ."

Methos touched the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor turned to come face to face with the ancient Immortal, who leaned in to whisper in his ear. "She'll be all right, Doctor, even if the Daleks kill her. I _know_."

The Doctor stared at Methos for a few seconds. Then he understood. "She's Immortal . . . ."

Methos nodded soberly.

It didn't make sense; as far as he could tell, Immortals were all Homo sapiens. That meant Nala wasn't native to Riga 3 after all. But there wasn't time to explore that. "So the Daleks' disruptors can't kill her, at least not permanently." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

"Look," said Vorna, who hadn't heard a word of the exchange and looked annoyed because of it, "we've got to go. I don't know how long Nala can distract our tinpot friends, but we've got to make the best of it."

"Fine," Methos said, a touch abruptly. "You lead the way, then."

And off they went.

* * *

"REPORT."

The Black Dalek's voice echoed through Grey Dalek No. 4's habitation chamber inside its dalek casing. It squelched briefly, then switched in the transmitter.

"TOLLOC FEMALE 'NALA' WAS OBSERVED IN CORRIDOR, NOT IN LABORATORY," No. 4 dilligently reported. "WE ARE PURSUING."

"NEGATIVE. NUMBER THREE WILL CONTINUE PURSUIT. YOU WILL RETURN AND VERIFY ALL REMAINING PRISONERS STILL SECURE."

Something vaguely like concern went through No. 4's twisted, conditioned mind. The female's escape could have been a ruse to draw the guards away from the entrance, illogical though such behavior seemed. It understood the problem, totally unconcerned that it might be punished and interested only in total obedience to its leader. It executed a smooth about-turn. "I OBEY," it said, and glided swiftly back to the laboratory.

The door to the laboratory was closed. The Dalek extended its manipulator arm in front of the door's sensor.

The door refused to open.

Dalek No 4. considered this briefly, then repeated the process. The door still did not open. Its primary onboard computer suggested transmitting an override code. No. 4 did so, but still the door would not open.

It hailed the Black Dalek on its internal radio.

"LISTENING," replied the commander.

"DOOR MECHANISM NON-FUNCTIONAL. REQUEST PERMISSION TO BLAST DOOR OPEN."

"PROCEED," replied the Black Dalek, which then severed the connection.

No. 4 slid a little ways away from the door, then brought its disruptor into position, pointed directly at the door sensor. It fired. It aimed at the door's magnetic locking mechanism and fired again. It aimed a third time, this time directly between the doors.

The doors shot rapidly apart, fusing with the doorframe as its magnetic brakes set permanently in the open position. No. 4 glided into the room and turned its eyestalk around to inspect the entire room.

The prisoners were gone.

* * *

By the time Vorna and the others reached the emergency exit, the klaxons had sounded. Presumably, their ruse had expired and the Daleks had realized that they were gone. But the building had no real lock-down procedure. It wasn't meant as a fortress, or as a prison. They were able to flee into the darkness of night.

They didn't stop running until the Tolloc had led them past a very low hill that none of them would have seen otherwise. Vorna was relieved that the Tolloc were carrying their strange lamps and had relit them - otherwise, she would surely be lost in the silver grassland, as blind as if she had no eyes. Besides their lamps, the only light came from the Finder complex, and it was now far too dangerous to dally there.

She caught up with the mysterious John Smith, who seemed comfortable and completely at ease despite the mad dash out of the complex. Perhaps he was an athlete. Or perhaps he just had a lot of experience running down corridors. It would certainly match Tosk's claim that the man was a spy for the Space Corps Auxilliary.

But weren't spies supposed to look inconspicous? Smith and Pierson were about as incongruous as possible while still being humanoid. Smith, for instance, was wearing a coat made of the most peculiar material. In the bright light of the lab, it had actually looked _fuzzy_.

It no longer mattered, however. The Daleks wouldn't thank her for turning over the spies. They'd kill her anyway. The important thing was that Smith and Pierson had arrived on Riga 3 independently. And that meant they had a spaceship.

"Doctor Smith?" she asked.

He turned to face her and smiled brilliantly. "Oh please, just call me 'Doctor.' Everybody else does."

Vorna nodded back impatiently. "Fine. Doctor. I need to know the capabilities of your spacecraft." He looked startled - or was he just amused? Vorna couldn't tell. "The Daleks will kill us all as soon as they get the chance. We have got to get off thie planet, and fast. Before they bring in reinforcements."

Smith shrugged. "Oh, it can get us all off this planet, I guarantee that. And it would easily outrun that cruiser. But if they call for reinforcements, it might not matter anyway. They do have the right technology to track us down."

Suddenly Vorna realized that Pierson was standing next to her, intently listening to the conversation. The concentration in his eyes unnerved her, and she returned her focus to Smith. "So let's go. I'll make sure you're paid for your efforts. Somehow . . . ."

"No," he replied, shaking his head vehemently. "We can't leave the Tolloc here to be enslaved by the Daleks. Especially if they're all like Nala."

"They are," said Pierson, quite unexpectedly.

"Like Nala?" asked Vorna, confused. "What, you think they all carry the race memory of their tribe? I've been studying them for six years, and I can tell you professionally that you're wrong."

Pierson actually laughed. "Well, Kallan's known more about them than you since the first day he met one. Trust me on this, Vorna. It's not their ESP that worries me."

One of the Tolloc hunters intruded at this point. Vorna had the brief and bizarre thought that they weren't on the run, but were all at some kind of costume party and the hunter was just another party goer joining their conversation. She almost laughed, but it wasn't funny.

"We must keep moving," said the Tolloc. "Nala will find her own way." His eyes twinkled strangely in the unflickering lamplight. "It is known."

By whom? Vorna wanted to ask. How far can you communicate? There were so many things she could've learned if the Tolloc had been this cooperative years ago . . . but it hardly mattered anymore.

Now Vorna did laugh. "You people . . . how can you be so optimistic? We kidnap your people, we do embarassing procedures on you, we even insult your culture. And now you know that we were just trying to turn you into our own private data store. How can you still think Nala will survive? They'll kill her!"

The hunter cocked his head to one side. "I do not understand. Martin spoke also of this killing, but I do not understand."

Pierson supressed a laugh. "Yeah, right," he said under his breath.

Smith glared at him, then answered the Tolloc's questions. "Akain, killing is what happens when you take down a snoweater in the winter with one of your bone knives." He gestured to the fur that Akain wore. "You killed the animal that wore that skin, and it did not heal or move again."

Akain's brows knit in confusion. "You say, then, that the Daleks wish to do that to Nala."

Vorna nodded. "Yes," she said, relieved. Finally, the man understood.

"The Daleks will kill her." A smile broke across his face. "And then she will return! But if the Daleks think she is like a snoweater, they will not expect it. She will escape." Odd reasoning, but it bolstered a suspicion Vorna had long held that the Tolloc believed in transmigration of soul.

Akain stared curiously at Vorna. "What?" she asked.

"I wonder," he said, "how it can be that you look like Tolloc but do not understand the endless circle. Nothing ends, nothing begins. It is not with us as it is with the snoweaters, who live but briefly. We are always." He frowned, a curious expression on a Tolloc. He was concentrating hard. "Is it not so with you? Do you also die and not return?"

"They do not return," said Pierson. "They are not like us."

Vorna's eyes widened as a pit opened in her stomach. "Us? What do you mean to say?"

Pierson had a strange, unreadable look on his face. "They're not native to this planet, or at least I don't think so. They're human, and they are Immortal."

Vorna snorted derisively. "Oh, and how would _you_ know?"

"Because I'm like them," he replied, rather more sharply than Vorna thought was neccesary under the circumstances. "I am also Immortal. We don't die from something as simple a gunshot wound, at least not permanently."

Vorna stared at him, incredulous. "You must think I'm an idiot to believe _that_ nonsense."

"It's not nonsense," said a cold, implacable and terribly familiar voice. Vorna turned. Leader Kallan had also joined the conversation. "Pierson's telling the truth." Kallan advanced on the group and continued speaking. "I'm Immortal myself. I was born in 3328 in Ganymede City, in the very solar system where the human race itself was born. I was raised by an attache to the ambassador to Draconia. I've been alive ever since, living among mortal humans and humanoids who haven't an inkling of what I am." He closed in on Vorna. "In 3450, I was on the colony world Tarnac when it was struck by a Dalek taskforce." He was only a foot away from Vorna now, deeply entrenched in her personal space, but she found herself unable to back away, rooted to the ground by the intensity of his gaze. "I was the only survivor. I've waited nearly a thousand years for the chance to strike back, and I'm not going to let it pass by now."

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	9. Episode 9

**EPISODE NINE: The Place of Light**

* * *

It was still deep of night, and Methos was really starting to feel like he could use a nap. Come to think of it, he could use some dinner too. He hadn't eaten since . . . .

It was on Earth he'd last eaten, at the Mall of America. The sheer normality of eating in a restaurant overrun by tourists and shopaholics staggered him for a moment. He'd been everywhere, or so he'd thought. He'd been the ultimate world traveller, having seen famous Babylonian temples still under contruction and then seen bits of them thousands of years later in the British Museum. He was used to the possibility of eating lunch on one continent and then going to sleep on another.

But this strange prairie was billions of miles and thousands of years away from where he had eaten his previous meal.

They had escaped from the Daleks, and were travelling to some sort of rendezvous point where the Tolloc expected Nala to join them. According to Akain, the other Tolloc left back at the village would somehow just "know" to join them. Since the Tolloc were telepathic, this made sense, but Methos didn't really want to think about them having ESP. He'd never heard of another Immortal with psychic powers, and it puzzled him.

Then again, there was Cassandra.

He pushed that thought firmly away. Whatever bound these Immortals together was totally different from anything he'd seen before. They weren't individually precognizant, they couldn't control your will, they didn't put nasty images in your mind. They just . . . shared thoughts. It was almost as if they shared a mind as well.

Almost as if . . . .

A disturbing suspicion began to rise in Methos' mind, but he didn't linger on the thought for fear it might be right. They'd probably be finding out soon anyway. They were almost up to their destination, whatever that was. He just hoped Nala made it out, for her own sake.

* * *

Savrek and the Black Dalek stood over Nala's body on the examining table in the lab. She had not escaped; Gray Dalek No. 3 had caught up with her and shot her dead with its disruptor. Since Tosk was otherwise occupied, Savrek had been given the unpleasant task of dragging the dead Tolloc back to the lab so they could perform an autopsy. She had been the last of their test specimens, so her body would likely be a useful resource in reclaiming the past six years of work.

"BEGIN," ordered the Black Dalek.

Savrek sighed. He wasn't the team's Fixer, so this wasn't his strong suit. But he'd had enough anatomy lessons during the training that he'd be able to at least open the woman up correctly. He lifted the laser scalpal hesitantly.

"BEGIN," repeated the Black Dalek.

"All right," he said, and started the scalpal charging.

Suddenly, the dead Tolloc inhaled sharply. Her eyes flew open.

Startled, Savrek jumped away. "It's not possible!" he said. The Black Dalek slid around to bring its gun to bear on Nala as she sat up in defiance of everything Savrek knew about physiology.

"But...how?"

Nala smiled. "The endless circle," she said, simply. The smile dropped away for a moment. "Why are you frightened? Do you not understand the endless circle? Have you never died?"

Savrek shook his head mutely.

"I hear the Call," said Nala. "I must go."

"NEGATIVE," said the Black Dalek. "YOU WILL REMAIN. YOU WILL OBEY ONLY THE DALEKS! WE ARE THE SUPREME RACE! YOU WILL OBEY OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED! YOU WILL OBEY! YOU WILL OBEY! YOU WILL OBEY!"

Savrek was startled to realize that the Dalek was just as alarmed as he was. Nala was dead; Savrek had confirmed that with a hand-scanner. But now she was very much alive, and apparently completely unharmed by her experience with the business end of a disruptor. Those usually made a terrible mess of a person's insides.

"FINDER SAVREK, YOU WILL LEAD THE TOLLOC SPECIMEN TO THE CRUISER."

"I obey," said Savrek, bowing.

"TOLLOC SPECIMEN NALA, YOU WILL FOLLOW SAVREK. IF YOU ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE, YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED AND CARRIED INTO THE CRUISER. OBEY THE DALEKS! OBEY! OBEY!"

She wasn't smiling any longer. She closed her eyes briefly, bowed her head, and then slid down off the table. "I will follow Savrek," she said.

Savrek smirked, satisfied that the Daleks trusted him with this. The fact that the Black Dalek was also covering him with its disruptor never occured to him as he lead Nala and the Dalek through the complex towards the Dalek cruiser.

* * *

The chill night air was beginning to fade as the first glimmerings of dawn shone on the horizon. The Doctor could now see without the light globes, and soon the humans would be able to see as well. He looked out over the group. They had stopped in a sort of wide spot in a ravine, very likely the same ravine where the Doctor had first seen the boy Iktha (boy! from what Methos had said, the boy could be centuries old) and apparently a place of some significance. In the night they had passed all sorts of strange objects and now he could make out some shapes. They were glimmering shards of metal and some sort of glassy substance. One was particularily large, a huge gleaming obelisk that loomed over all the rest. They were all jutting up out of the sand deposited by an oxbow curve in the stream that had carved the ravine, and a low cliff rose impressively above the far side of the water.

They were, to the Doctor's experienced eye, very obviously the wreckage of an ancient sub-light spacecraft. It had probably been here for thousands of years, judging by the way the soil and sediment had grown up around the fragments. It was probably one of the first- or second-generation Earth colony ships, an ancient sleeper ship. It was odd, he reflected, that there were no large plants around the bits, but perhaps the area was simply too damp from the stream. But as the light grew, the Doctor realized that he couldn't see any plants at all in the fine, silty ground of the ravine. It had to be fertile from all the silt of the creek, and yet nothing was growing here. It seemed very odd to the Doctor. Then again, perhaps the natives just spent a lot of time weeding the place.

The Tolloc still had their lamps lit. The reflected light glittered eerily on the shiny surfaces of the fragments. The light also illuminated the faces of the non-Tolloc standing not far from the Doctor, all obviously too uncomfortable to stand with the Tolloc themselves. Methos looked very much on edge, and the Doctor really felt he should make it up to the ancient Immortal later. This little side-trip had been quite unplanned and was probably very uncomfortable for Methos.

It probably wasn't very comfortable for the Finders either. Vorna was sitting on the ground and scowling at everybody who had the misfortune to meet her gaze. Martin had gone to sleep next to her, which was probably the wisest thing he could do in the circumstance. Their leader, the mysterious Immortal Kallan, was lounging against one of the shining shards jutting out of the ground. He seemed lost in thought, perhaps contemplating how he was going to acheive his revenge against the Daleks given the unexpected twists that had been occurring of late.

The Doctor shook his head. When were people going to learn that vengeance never solves anything?

A shout broke his train of thought. He looked up and saw a dozen more of the unique, smokeless lanterns of the Tolloc on the edge of the low earthen cliff across the stream. As his eyes adjusted to the contrast, he saw the remainder of the Tolloc people standing up there. Akain had been right. They _had_ known to meet them here.

The new group of Tolloc worked their way around and out of sight before reemerging at the base of the ravine. They forded the small stream effortlessly and the Doctor stood to go meet them. Kallan and Methos, he noticed, did likewise, although the two Finders stayed put, apparently having had quite enough of the situation.

Akain joined them. "Hail!" cried the Tolloc hunter, calling out to the newcomers.

"Hail!" The cry was returned by the long-bearded redhead elder that the Doctor had met back at the village yesterday.

They met up with the second group of Tolloc. The redhead inclined his head towards the Doctor. "Shadow Walker, Lord of Time, our own Time is near." He smiled inscrutably at the Doctor, who blinked at the realization that the Tolloc knew exactly what he was. Shadow Walker wasn't just an expression. It was a liberal translation of the old word "gallifreya." They who walk in shadow. The Doctor blinked again, momentarily lost for words.

Iktha stepped forward out of the second group of Tolloc. "Nala has been captured. When she comes, the Strangers will come with her."

* * *

"REPORT."

In the control room of the Dalek cruiser, Communicator Tosk bowed. "I obey. The Supreme Dalek has been notified of the situation. There are no new orders. Subspace comm link to the main battlefleet remains open for further status reports." Tosk hesitated briefly. There was more, news that had come directly from Dalek High Command, and it was not good.

"CONTINUE," said the Black Dalek.

"Leader Kallan's identity has been confirmed, but . . . it doesn't make sense."

"EXPLAIN."

Tosk took a deep breath, then spoke. "A man named Kallan was involved in the attack on the planet Tarnac in Dalek territory."

The Black Dalek actually seemed speechless, a rare condition for its species.

"Yes, he was at Tarnac," said Tosk. "He led the Watchers right to it nearly a thousand years ago."

"ILLOGICAL," said the Dalek, which Tosk had rather expected. "KALLAN IS HUMAN. MAXIMUM HUMAN LIFE EXPECTANCY DOES NOT EXCEED 150 YEARS."

"I know," said Tosk. "But I dug up some old Space Corps Auxilliary records. A man with _identical_ biometrics and answering to the same name recieved training from them in Earth Standard Year 3484. He can't possibly be human."

The Black Dalek was silent for a moment. "PROBABILITY SUGGESTS KALLAN IS A TIME LORD."

Tosk's brows knit together. He'd never heard of a Time Lord before. "What are Time Lords?"

"THEY ARE HUMANOID LIFE FORMS LIVING THOUSANDS OF YEARS. THEY ARE ENEMIES OF THE DALEK RACE. SEARCH THE AREA FOR TEMPORAL DISTURBANCES."

Tosk's eyes widened. That meant that the Dalek expected him to find some sort of a time machine. As far as he knew, only the Daleks had access to such technology. Apparently he was wrong.

"I obey," he said, and turned to leave. To his great surprise, however, he saw Finder Savrek coming the other way. He was about to ask why he wasn't busy with the autopsy on the Tolloc female when he realized the Tolloc was standing right behind Savrek, alive and apparently unhurt. A gray Dalek stood behind, covering both her and Savrek. Tosk's eyes narrowed. There was perhaps more to the conspiracy than he'd realized.

He turned to face the Black Dalek once more. Its attention was not on him. "FINDER SAVREK," it screeched.

Savrek immediately went down on one knee before it. Tosk rolled his eyes at the youth's blatant fawning. The fool didn't realize that the Daleks cared nothing for flattery. All they cared about was obedience.

"EXPLAIN CONTINUED SURVIVAL OF TOLLOC FEMALE," commanded the Black Dalek.

Savrek looked up. "I regret I cannot. I could swear she was dead when we took her into the examination room. But then she just got up again. She was exterminated. I know she was. But she doesn't have a mark to show for it." He shrugged. "We knew they were capable of rapid healing, but nothing on this scale."

The Black Dalek considered. "TOLLOC RAPID HEALING WAS NOT REPORTED. EXPLAIN."

Savrek's brows furrowed. "The project wasn't finished."

"CONFIRM: YOU KNEW OF THIS FINDING."

"Yes," Savrek said, confidently.

"CONFIRM: YOU WITHHELD THIS INFORMATION FROM DALEK COMMAND."

"No!" Savrek shouted, jumping back to his feet. A second gray Dalek slid into the cruiser's command deck. "I mean, well, yes, I suppose I didn't report it, but it wasn't to hide anything. I just didn't think it was important."

"THEN YOU HAVE FAILED THE DALEKS." Savrek's eyes widened in terror as he realized what this meant. Tosk briefly pitied the man. He obviously had the mistaken impression that the Daleks were compassionate, or that they cared about intentions. Savrek turned to him. His eyes pleaded for help, but Tosk was impassive. "EXTERMINATE!" commanded the Black Dalek. The newly arrived gray Dalek fired. A brilliant flash threw Tosk's vision temporarily into reverse. Savrek screamed, his body twisting in agony. When the flash subsided, the simpering wretch of a Finder had collapsed into a heap on the floor, motionless and clearly dead.

The Black Dalek turned its eyestalk on Tosk. "YOU WILL SEARCH FOR TEMPORAL DISTURBANCES," it ordered. "WHEN YOUR SEARCH IS COMPLETE, YOU WILL RETURN HERE."

Tosk looked up. "I obey," he said, and hastened out of the room. There was now no time to waste.

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	10. Episode 10

**EPISODE TEN: Into the Fire**

* * *

Dawn broke across the silver prairie, spreading rapidly from hillock to hillock. The Place of Light was still in the shadow of the ravine walls, but as Methos gazed up at the westward wall, he could see sunlight brilliantly illuminating the silver grasses that waved at the rim. An excited shout broke out among the Tolloc. He frowned, puzzled. "What's so exciting?" he asked of no one in particular.

It was Vorna who answered. "Sunlight," she replied. There was a grudging wonder in her voice. "It's almost never sunny here."

"Why is that?" asked Methos, curious despite the extremity of the situation.

"We're not sure," she replied. "Most prairies get a lot of sunlight, but not on this world. You may have noticed that there is little green in the vegetation. Most plants in the galaxy rely on chlorophyl, but these don't. It's something else, adapted to survive in this climate."

"What is it?"

Vorna shrugged. "It wasn't our mission to find out." His amazement must have been obvious because she smiled apologetically. "When you're working for the Daleks, it doesn't pay to get distracted."

The Tolloc were anything but distracted. Methos watched them congregate near the largest piece of wreckage. The child Iktha was directing them to form into two concentric circles. As the sunlight slowly spilled deeper into the ravine, Methos realized that these circles would be neatly bisected by the shadow of the largest fragment of the ancient colony ship. He grinned.

"What's so amusing?" asked Vorna.

"Look at them. A stone-age culture delivered to this world by futuristic technology that is now totally obsolete, performing rituals in the shadow of a menhir made from a crashed spaceship." Vorna stared at him blankly. "What, don't you even know what a menhir is?"

"No," she replied.

"The things they're not teaching people these days," said Methos, shaking his head. "It's an obelisk. Stone-age Britons used them."

"What are Britons?" she asked.

Methos sighed. Two thousand years, and the Britons had been forgotten. She probably didn't even know where the British Isles were. It wasn't comforting to realize that she might not even know where the Earth was.

"Culture shock?"

Methos jumped. The voice belonged to Kallan. The presence of so many immortals had masked Kallan's approach. The knowledge brought no comfort. "You startled me," he said reproachfully.

"Being around the Tolloc does take some getting used to," said the other Immortal. "I heard you talking about Earth. I'm afraid the others don't know much about it."

"Why not?" asked Methos. "They're human, aren't they?"

Kallan nodded. "Yes, but they've never been anywhere near Earth. They come from Dalek-controlled worlds. The Galactic Federation has allowed humanity to spread quite widely across the cosmos, but with the advance of Dalek forces, more and more worlds have become isolated."

Vorna glared. "You really are an Auxie, aren't you?"

Kallan laughed and shook his head. "I trained with a Dalek-killer squad, but I never served with them. I only needed training to accompany the strike force that attempted to retake Tarnac." He looked at Methos. "You've heard of Tarnac, I'm sure."

Methos shook his head. "Should I have?"

"You haven't heard of Tarnac? The Watcher colony?" Methos blinked, astonished. So this was why the Daleks had heard of the Watchers. "I thought you were older than that," he said. "Never mind. You must know of the Watchers, at least." Methos nodded. "They founded a colony called Tarnac to house all of their records. Trusted Immortals were allowed to travel there with information."

"Immortals such as yourself, I presume?"

Kallan bowed immodestly. "I was there when the Daleks first took it. They didn't understand why the colonists put up such a fight, and finally used orbital bombardment to end it. I awoke in the ruins of Tarnac and was able to repair a spacecraft sufficiently to flee. It was . . . uncomfortable." His eyes unfocused for a few seconds as memory overtook him. He shook his head to clear it. "I brought a few records with me; as much as I could salvage. I made it back into Federation space and made contact with the Watchers. We assembled a strike team, received training from the Space Corps Auxilliaries . . . " Vorna snorted derisively. Kallan glared at her for the interruption. "The training was effective. We penetrated Dalek space and retook Tarnac." He shrugged. "Admittedly, the Daleks hadn't left much of a force there; Tarnac was a beautiful world, but not one with much mineral wealth. I think they only took it because they could. We set up a base, set up ground defenses, and began digging out the Chronicles. But we only had three months before the Daleks returned in larger numbers. We destroyed all of the Chronicles on Tarnac, and the Daleks retaliated with nuclear bombardment, rendering the world uninhabitable." He turned abruptly. "It took me fifteen years to get off Tarnac again." He lapsed into silence.

Vorna was shaking her head. "You seriously believe that, don't you?"

Kallan did not answer her. Instead, he spoke to Methos in a forced conversational tone. "It was on Tarnac that I found out about the Tolloc. Oh, I didn't know what they were called. But a Watcher delivered a fragmentary Chronicle while I was there. I didn't even know whose. All I knew is that it involved an Immortal who assembled a colony ship during the sleeper ship era. He had mortal technical crew, pre-Immortal colonists . . . and himself."

This piqued Methos' attention. "You mean he's here, among the Tolloc?"

Kallan shook his head. "No. Whether he planned it that way or not, he was beheaded when the ship crash-landed. The Tolloc awakened from their First Deaths and experienced a shared Quickening. I'm not sure why it went to all of them instead of just the nearest." He gazed out at the assembling Tolloc. "That's why they call this the Place of Light. They don't know what happened, of course. They were unconscious, and so much time has passed that I don't think they even really have any memory of their mortal lives."

Methos glanced over at Vorna. She was staring daggers at Kallan. "And how, pray, did you come to this unbelievable conclusion?" she said, her temper barely in check. " I've been studying the Tolloc a lot harder than you, *Leader* Kallan, and there was never any suggestion of what you claim."

"You weren't asking the right questions," he replied. "Don't blame yourself. If you didn't know about Immortals or the ancient colony ship, you couldn't have guessed. I came here several years before I first approached the Daleks and learned all I wanted to about the Tolloc."

Vorna stared. "Then what in the Universe were you expecting to get out of our six years of research on this god-forsaken rock?"

"I knew all I wanted to know about the Tolloc; while you were studying them for six years, I was studying the Kaled mutants."

"That's treason," she said.

Kallan raised an eyebrow. "What, after all that, you're still loyal to your Dalek masters? They don't care about you, you know. Your only value is as a work unit."

"I know that perfectly well, Kallan." She sighed. "The Daleks are superior. A sensible person doesn't resist them, but finds ways to satisfy them."

Methos shivered unaccountably. He'd used much the same argument once to justify allegiance to Kronos. It occurred to him that there was something very Dalek about Kronos. He'd relished domination and destruction, taken slaves only as long as they remained useful, killed them on a whim, and firmly believed that this was his right as an Immortal, a superior being.

But the Daleks were no Horsemen, and there were a lot more than just four of them. Billions or even trillions, if the Finders' story of a vast interstellar empire could be believed. Like Kronos, they would destroy purely because they could. But unlike Kronos, they had the technology and coordination to do so on an unfathomable scale.

He shook his head to drive off the phantom sound of hoofbeats. "So," he asked Kallan, "what exactly were you planning?"

* * *

Tosk strode quickly through the deserted complex. His stride was crisp and efficient, belying the concern he felt. The Black Dalek had been right. There was a time machine on Riga III. He skipped the lift and instead leapt up the stairs to the rooftop landing pad three at a time. When he arrived at the ship, he went directly to the ramp. He had a grim feeling that his masters would not be pleased with what he found, but it would be no surprise to them, and at least he had the coordinates.

"REPORT," commanded the Black Dalek the moment Tosk entered the command deck.

He bowed briefly to the Dalek. "Time traces were detected consistent with the landing of a time craft sometime yesterday. Furthermore, the vessel has not departed and I have a firm lock on its position." He crossed to the main navigational display and brought up a map of the region. He briskly entered coordinates on the keypad. Two points lit up, a little over twenty clicks from the base. "This is the place the Tolloc call the Place of Light. I believe they will be gathering there. And just past it is the location of the time vessel."

The Black Dalek paused to consult its onboard computers. While waiting, Tosk scanned the room for the Tolloc female. He quickly found her, sitting quietly in a sinister chair that Tosk recognized as a Battle Computer. It was a very new innovation, but the Daleks had not yet managed to make it work. The creativity and unpredictability of the human mind could be slaved into the system, but to date, all subjects had burned out too quickly to have been of much use. It was a sort of parallel to the Finders mission of exploiting organic brains for data storage. It occurred to Tosk for the first time that perhaps the strange healing abilities of the Tolloc might bridge the gap. Obviously the thought had occurred to the Daleks as well. He had his doubts that it would work; the Tolloc lacked the necessary brutality to be useful for strategy. Experiments with human children had shown better promise; the device merely needed to be refined so they would live long enough to be of use.

The Black Dalek completed its consultation. "WE WILL PROCEED TO THE PLACE OF LIGHT AND EXTERMINATE ANY RESISTANCE. SURVIVING TOLLOC WILL BE CAPTURED FOR STUDY. IF THE ESCAPED PRISONERS ARE NOT CAPTURED, WE WILL PROCEED TO THE TIME VESSEL. COMMUNICATOR TOSK WILL PREPARE THE BATTLE COMPUTER." It turned its eyestalk to point at one of the gray Daleks. "PREPARE THE SHIP FOR FLIGHT."

"I OBEY," said the gray Dalek. It glided soundlessly to the flight control panel and began flight preparations. Tosk took his place alongside the Tolloc woman. As the ramp slowly lifted up and sealed shut, he became aware that the Tolloc was staring at him. He turned to look her in the eye.

"What is happening?" she asked him.

Tosk looked around, but the Daleks did not seem to care if he spoke to the prisoner. "We're going to fly," he said. It probably sounded impossible to her.

But she simply nodded. "Yes," she said. "Tolloc flew once before, when our people were born." Her eyebrows furrowed. "It is a hidden memory. I alone of the Tolloc can see it. But I can only see one hidden memory at a time, until the fire comes to unlock it for all."

Tosk nodded dispassionately. He'd heard this before. It was all part of the Tolloc's curious mythology. Vorna had speculated that they'd developed their strange cosmology to cope with their shared memories, but Tosk didn't really care. Their primitive superstitions were unimportant. All that mattered was whether or not they could be of use.

The ship began to vibrate as the engines came on line and began to build thrust. Then Tosk became aware of a gentle tug as the ship accelerated upwards, lifting off the pad. He glanced at the Tolloc again. She was unafraid, her eyes glittering. "Soon," she said. "Soon."

Tosk frowned, puzzled. "Soon? What is soon?"

"Time," she replied unhelpfully, as if that explained everything. When Tosk still seemed puzzled, she elaborated. "The Tolloc Time, the end of Now, when the Tolloc must decide."

"Decide what?" asked Tosk, but Nala fell silent, an expectant look in her eyes. The gentle tug of the ship's acceleration changed and Tosk knew it had set off towards the coordinates of the time vessel. For the first time, he felt disquieted not by the Daleks nor by the machinations of the Finders but of the Tolloc themselves. He had the uncomfortable feeling that the Daleks weren't really in charge this time. It wasn't pleasant.

* * *

The Doctor was pacing restlessly in tight circles when Methos found him. He paused and looked up to see an uncharacteristic look of worry on the ancient Immortal's face. "Yes?" he asked, more irritably than he'd intended. There was something very odd about the Place of Light. He could feel it.

"We need to talk," said Methos.

"There's something not right here," the Doctor replied. He stared at the two concentric circles of Tolloc. They were sitting in silence, apparently meditating. It seemed obvious to the Doctor that they were preparing to exploit some natural property of the location, but what exactly that was remained a mystery. "And I don't think the Daleks will sit idly by while we contemplate our navels."

"Well, I haven't been contemplating my navel," said Methos testily. "I've been talking to Kallan."

The Doctor had returned to his thoughts and did not acknowledge Methos. "I've been thinking about the Tolloc and this place. There's something strange here, and it's more than just the statistical improbability of a planet full of Immortals." He began his pacing again. "How did these people come here? Why did not a single one remember their mortal lives? And what's so special about this place? What had this ship been carrying?"

"That's what I came to tell you," said Methos. The Doctor stopped his pacing again. "The Tolloc were colonists. They came here in a sleeper ship two thousand years ago."

The Doctor nodded. "This ship, I presume," he said, pointing at the fragments.

Methos rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, and you of course instantly knew what it was."

"Of course," replied the Doctor. "Did they know they were Immortal at the time?"

Methos shook his head. He filled the Doctor in on Kallan's story. The Doctor shivered unconsciously at the tale of Tarnac's destruction. The Dalek capacity for mindless devastation continued to amaze him. "Interesting," he said when Methos had finished. "A mystery Immortal gives his life that these people might live on without ever having to face the Game." His voice had unconsciously softened. He couldn't decide whether it was a magnificent gift or a terrible tragedy. But there was still a missing piece of the puzzle. "What about Kallan? He had a plan to strike back at the Daleks, and I'm sure that either the Tolloc or this place had something to do with it."

"It's both, actually," said Methos. Something in his voice made the Doctor look up sharply. The ancient Immortal was looking off into the distance, his stance too casual to be natural.

A piece clicked in the Doctor's mind and he began thinking out loud. "You said that when the Tolloc arrived, they shared a group Quickening." Methos nodded. "I gather that's not an ordinary occurrence."

Methos shook his head. "No. It normally goes to the nearest Immortal."

"Are there ever any exceptions?"

Methos looked away again. "Only when several Immortals are killed at the same time." He shook his head. "The timing must be precise for it to work, and that can't explain what happened with the Tolloc. There would have to have been at least one Immortal killed for every Tolloc, and they would all have had to die before the first Quickening started." Methos turned another suspiciously casual look on the Doctor. "It's not likely. I'd even say impossible, given what Kallan said about the flight manifest. Only four people are unaccounted for, and of those, three were almost definitely mortals."

The Doctor nodded. "That leaves only one possibility," he said. "There's something about this place, or the wreckage of the ship." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Kallan didn't tell you anything more than that?"

"No, there's more," Methos said. "Doctor, we have to get out of here. Rescue the Finders if you must, but I do not want to be here when Kallan puts his plan in motion."

"Oh no," said the Doctor. "He isn't planning what I think he's planning, is he?"

"He wants to lure the Daleks to this place and then trigger a Quickening," said Methos. He glanced about him hastily, as if unsure whether Kallan might be listening. Were the dozens of Tolloc interfering with his senses? "I don't want to be here when he does."

The Doctor gasped in realization. "He plans to kill you?"

Methos stared at the Doctor as if he were an idiot. Maybe it was justified, the Doctor would later reflect, because what Methos said next took him completely by surprise. "No," said Methos. "He wants me to kill him."

* * *

Onboard the Dalek cruiser, Nala sat in silence. Beside her, Tosk had picked up a bundle of wires and was fiddling with them. She dismissed it as unimportant. Tosk was the stupidest of the Finders, in her opinion, He always asked meaningless questions. But that didn't matter. The Finders were always doing strange things, and she did not think it worth trying to understand them.

What mattered was the Call. The rest of the Tolloc were waiting for her. She was not distressed. She knew the strange ship with the strange metal creatures would take her to her people. It would all be over soon. That did not worry her, although it was clearly worrying Tosk. The silly Finder was fumbling the wires nervously, his eyes flicking occasionally from Nala to the Daleks to the illuminated display panels and back to the wires in his lap again.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the distractions around her. She perceived bright tendrils of light reaching out to the other Tolloc. The connections beckoned to her. Most of all, she perceived Iktha, waiting patiently for her arrival. If she looked forward in the fourth dimension, she saw uncertainty. It was a strange thing after the changeless eternity of her people, but it was not unfamiliar. She had seen it looming ahead of them many times. This was what Iktha had prophesied. It was very near now, looming eerily large in her perception.

There was a subtle shift and Nala realized that the cruiser was slowing. But they had not yet reached the Place of Light. She could not feel her people. She opened her eyes. The Black Dalek had glided over in front of her. "IS THE DEVICE READY?" it demanded. Its voice grated unpleasantly. Nala had never feared anything, nor disliked any creature personally, but there was something about the Dalek that revulsed her.

Tosk stood. "It's ready," he replied. Nala saw that he was holding the bundle of wires in his hands. It was attached to a sort of crown similar to the ones that she had worn so many times in Fixer Martin's lab as they'd performed countless meaningless tests. Before she could object, Tosk slipped it onto Nala's head. She reached up to touch it, but the Dalek moved forward.

"DO NOT DISTURB IT!" it shrieked. Nala dropped her hands into her lap.

"Are you sure she can serve?" asked Tosk. "The Tolloc are pacifists."

"IT IS UNIMPORTANT," replied the Dalek. "SHE WILL PREDICT BEHAVIOR OF ESCAPEES. TACTICS ARE NOT REQUIRED."

Tosk shrugged. He leaned forward and looked Nala in the eye. "Don't worry," he told her. "Obey the Daleks."

"Why?" she asked, but Tosk didn't answer. Instead, he activated a sequence of buttons on a touchpad. Suddenly images, perceptions, statistics, and raw information began flowing across her brain. She felt her mind widen in response as if reaching out for other Tolloc, but the relentless flow of information pressed in on her. Her conscious mind retreated into itself, curling up into a defensive ball and cutting itself off from the outside world. The last thing she was aware of was a Dalek voice repeating the word "obey" over and over and over and over . . . .

* * *

"Kallan, this is madness!" shouted the Doctor. He stormed across the sand to where the Immortal Finder sat watching the Tolloc.

"I have my reasons," he said. "Don't try to understand it. I'll threaten you if necessary to make your friend do it."

"Won't work," said Methos. "I haven't felt guilt since the eleventh century."

That got Kallan's attention. "Just how old are you?" he asked. "Who are you, really?"

"It doesn't matter," said the Doctor. "What does matter is that Adam and I are not of this time."

"Impossible," scoffed Kallan. "Only the Daleks can time-travel."

The Doctor shook his head. "Just listen to me, Kallan. Adam comes from the Twentieth Century. That's two thousand years of time differential. Even if this weren't Holy Ground, I could not allow him to take your head."

"I don't believe it counts as Holy Ground," said Kallan. "And what you claim is absurd. I don't think . . . ."

"Doctor," said Methos. "I think you should look at this."

The Doctor turned to follow where Methos was pointing. The Tolloc had stopped meditating. They had all risen to their feet and were staring into space in complete silence. Vorna had noticed and was jogging towards them. As the Doctor watched, she waved her hand in front of an elderly female Tolloc's face and got no response. The Doctor trotted over to her side. "What do you make of this?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "I don't know. They seem to be completely unresponsive." For demonstration, she poked the elderly female Tolloc in the bicep, but still got no reaction. "It's as if they're no longer aware of their surroundings, focused instead on somewhere else."

The Doctor nodded. "On what, do you suppose?"

Vorna got no chance to answer. A wind blew through the broad ravine and then the roar of engines presaged the arrival of the Dalek cruiser. It crested the edge of the ravine and let out a harsh whine as it decelerated. If Vorna said anything at this point, it was lost in the roar of the engines. The ship came to a halt, hovering directly above the ravine. Luminous white ports opened in its underbelly and four Daleks - three gray, one black - were gently lowered down on platforms. Four more Daleks appeared on the rim of the ravine, easily covering the high ground. The Daleks shrieked in unison as they scanned the area.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT MOVE! YOU ARE PRISONERS OF THE DALEKS! STAY WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT MOVE! DO NOT MOVE!"

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	11. Episode 11

**EPISODE ELEVEN: Endgame**

* * *

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT MOVE! YOU ARE PRISONERS OF THE DALEKS! STAY WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT MOVE! DO NOT MOVE! "

"I heard you the first time," murmured Methos as he scanned the eight Daleks surrounding the valley, but he stayed where he was. A few yards away, the Doctor and Vorna stood with the Tolloc. It was a pity the Tolloc were pacifists, and even more of a pity that they were apparently comatose. They'd be no help.

Kallan was frantic. "You must kill me now!" he said, tugging on Methos' sleeve like an anxious child. "It's our only hope!" He prodded Methos with the hilt of his sword.

It was a bad move. "DROP YOUR PRIMITIVE WEAPON!" ordered a gray Dalek. When Kallan did not immediately comply, the Dalek fired its weapon. Methos' vision was flung into reverse by the blinding flash, but he could still make out Kallan's body, contorted in agony for a fraction of a second before falling bonelessly to the ground, dead.

By now, the Daleks had no doubt discovered Nala's Immortality, and had probably correctly concluded that the rest of the Tolloc were similarly blessed. But did they know about Kallan? More to the point, did they know about Methos? He had no idea how much damage those weapons really did, and no way of guessing how fast Kallan tended to revive, nor any way of guessing what the Daleks would do about it.

The Dalek that had shot Kallan glided across the sandy soil. It seemed to have little difficulty with the terrain, despite its cumbersome appearance, and Methos found himself wondering just what it was using for propulsion. It halted in front of Kallan's body. It watched for several agonizingly long seconds, then looked up. "NO SIGNS OF REGENERATION DETECTED," it announced, and Methos let out his breath. But it was a puzzling term for Immortal healing. It sounded more like what the Doctor had gone through.

The Dalek then pulled back into a posture where it could again cover many of the prisoners, and the Black Dalek glided over. It stopped in front of Methos and turned its eyestalk to look directly in his face. "ADAM PIERSON, CONFIRM: YOU ARE A TIME LORD."

Methos blinked in astonishment. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or be insulted. A few yards away, he spied the Doctor. The real Time Lord was wearing a poker face. "What?" he asked.

"CONFIRM: YOU ARE A TIME LORD," repeated the Dalek.

Now he did laugh. "That's absurd!" he said.

"ANSWER!" The threat in its synthesized voice was clear.

Methos sobered. "No, I am not a Time Lord," he said, fixing his eyes on the Dalek's ugly eyestalk. He hoped it didn't shoot him; he was famously fast to revive, so his odds of a nice, private revival were basically nil.

"KALLAN WAS A TIME LORD," the Dalek declared. Methos couldn't help smiling, but the Dalek appeared oblivious to it. "HE HAS BEEN ON RIGA III FOR SIX YEARS. RECENT TIME-TRACES HAVE BEEN DETECTED. THEREFORE THERE IS ANOTHER TIME LORD HERE. KALLAN'S ASSOCIATE."

Methos raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what makes you think he was a Time Lord?"

He hadn't seriously expected an answer, but the Dalek provided one anyway. "KALLAN'S LIFESPAN EXCEEDED HUMAN NORM." Ah. So Kallan hadn't been careful with his paper trail. He was probably one of those foolish Immortals who kept the same name through the centuries. "THERE IS ANOTHER," said the Dalek. It glided over to the Doctor. "JOHN SMITH, CONFIRM: YOU ARE A TIME LORD."

The Doctor looked back at the Dalek, his face unreadable.

* * *

Aboard the Dalek cruiser, Tosk had been left to tend the Tolloc female. Her face was disturbingly blank, a change from the constant insipid smile these people always seemed to wear. But this was to be expected; her brain had been slaved to a Battle Computer, replacing her emotional, primitive personality with its coldly logical one. Momentarily curious, Tosk fingered the delicate wires connecting the terminal to the circlet on her head. It was crude, but the Battle Computer represented the very latest in Dalek technology. There had not yet been time to refine it. In any case, the Daleks designed for function, not aesthetics.

"Time," she murmured, startling Tosk. Speech was not surpressed by the Battle Computer; perhaps it was working on the ramifications of the time traces. It would attempt tactical decisions, even if Nala lacked the brutality to contribute much originality to them. "Time," she repeated. "Tolloc Time."

She couldn't be saying the Tolloc were time-sensitives, could she? They hadn't tested for that. More likely, she was predicting the Tolloc would attempt to enter the time vessel that had delivered Pierson and Smith to Riga 3. "I knew we should've secured the time vessel first," he murmured.

* * *

"CONFIRM," repeated the Black Dalek.

The Doctor shrugged. "Well, you got me," he said. "I am a Time Lord."

"YOU WILL SURRENDER THE KEY TO YOUR TARDIS!"

He smiled. "Hard to pick pockets with those manipulator arms?" The Dalek was unamused. "No," he said. "I'm afraid you're not going to get my TARDIS. And I suggest you leave this planet immediately."

"EXPLAIN," ordered the Dalek.

The Doctor's grin widened. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"YOU IDENTIFIED YOURSELF AS JOHN SMITH."

The Doctor casually pulled a jellybaby out of his pocket. "Ooh, I wouldn't believe everything I told you if I were you," he said, and then ate the jellybaby. He frowned abruptly. "Lemon. Not my favorite flavor."

"SILENCE!" shrieked the Dalek, obviously irritated by the nonsequitor. "IDENTIFY YOURSELF!"

"Oh, now how can I identify myself if I'm supposed to be silent?" said the Doctor. The Dalek responded by firing its disruptor on a low setting. The flash temporarily blinded the Doctor and agonizing pain shot through his body. His legs collapsed uselessly beneath him and he fell into the damp sand of the ravine floor. It was several seconds before his vision cleared.

"IDENTIFY!" repeated the Dalek. "OR YOUR COMPANION WILL SUFFER NEXT!"

The Doctor couldn't help looking at Methos. The ancient Immortal was silently standing alongside Kallan's body. His eyes had gone very wide. The Doctor sighed. "I'm the Doctor," he said.

"YOU ARE THE DOCTOR! YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEK RACE! YOU ARE OUR PRISONER! YOU WILL NOT ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE! YOU WILL RETURN WITH US TO THE MAIN BATTLE FLEET!"

Although he still could not stand, the Doctor could see several additional gray Daleks glide over to guard him. "Four guards even while I'm paralyzed. Should I be honored?"

But the Black Dalek did not answer. Something else had caught its attention. The Doctor followed the direction of its eyestalk. The Tolloc were no longer motionless. They were looking around independently, as if regaining awareness of their surroundings. They took no notice of the Daleks, but stared at the cruiser with a curious intensity. Then Iktha raised his hands in the air. "It is Time," the boy said. "Time to decide what we shall be."

* * *

"Time to decide what we shall be," murmured Nala. Tosk stared at her. He had no experience with Battle Computers, so he didn't know if this sort of nonsense babble was normal or not. "But it is too late," she said. "The choice is made for us."

"What are you babbling about?" Tosk asked rhetorically.

To his surprise, she answered, actually turning her head to look him in the eye. But her gaze was unfocused, as if speaking to someone directly beyond Tosk. "The Tolloc will be no more." Tosk never noticed the tear running down her cheek.

* * *

At that moment, Kallan came back to life. Methos had no hope left of concealing the fact from the Daleks. When the younger Immortal dragged in that first, agonizing breath, Vorna let out a brief cry. The Black Dalek's eyestalk turned sharply around, taking in Kallan's abrupt return to the land of the living.

"YOU ARE TOLLOC! YOU CONCEALED THIS FACT! EXPLAIN!"

Kallan sat up, clutching his head dizzily. No doubt the presence of so many Immortals was making the revival unpleasant. He looked around at the Daleks, then up at Methos. "Damn," he said simply. With a sigh, he dragged himself back up to his feet and dusted himself off. "No," he said. "I'm not a Tolloc. But I do heal like them."

"EXPLAIN," said the Black Dalek.

Instead of answering, he turned to Methos again. "Adam, you have to kill me. This is your last chance. I'm not kidding."

"You seriously think they'd let me?" asked Methos. "I go for a sword, and they'll kill me before I can do anything."

Kallan started to answer, but was stopped by a sudden change in the quality of sound from the Dalek cruiser's engines. The whine had deepened in pitch and the spacecraft was gently setting down. All eyes went to it.

* * *

Inside the ship, Tosk stumbled and fell as the ship moved. The inertial dampers did not kick in as they would for a normal move, so he immediately assumed it was an emergency landing activated by the onboard computers. He scrambled back to his feet and began moving towards the flight station to find out what was going on. The ship lurched again, tossing him to the floor. Then it was still, and he assumed it had landed. Just what was going on? He pulled himself up to the flight station's broad console, designed for Dalek use. There were no reports of failures, no reason he could see why the ship had landed so precipitously.

"I will join my people!" shouted the female Tolloc. Tosk looked up in surprise. An unintelligent repair drone, normally used for inflight emergency repairs which the Daleks could not accomplish, had silently rolled across the floor to Nala on its twin caterpillar tracks. Its cutting arm was extended. Tosk put two and two together immediately. Through the Battle Computer, Nala had seized control of the machine and was now preparing to cut herself free. No doubt the emergency landing had been engineered by her as well. It wasn't supposed to be possible for her to do that, but there was no denying the obvious.

"Stop that!" he cried, running out from behind the flight station and making a beeline for the drone's shutoff switch. But as he approached, it spun around to face him. The cutting arm looked frightful, and he stopped in his tracks. When he looked at Nala, he was amazed to see a look of resolute anger on her face. It was like nothing he'd ever seen on a Tolloc. "Nala?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"Leave," she said. "You must leave."

"But the Daleks . . ."

"The Daleks do not matter!" she shouted. "Leave, or stay here and die!"

Tosk began backing away towards the exit ramp. The drone turned back to face Nala, but her eyes never left Tosk. The exit ramp began to lower without Tosk commanding it.

"Go, Finder," she said to him. Then she closed her eyes as the drone suddenly moved forward. Tosk's eyes widened in shock as it neatly severed Nala's head.

* * *

Outside, all of the Tolloc froze simultaneously. It took a moment for Methos and Kallan to realize what had just happened; with so many Immortals in one place, it was difficult to detect the loss of just one. But they didn't have to wonder very long, for long tendrils of white light came snaking out of the Dalek cruiser. Methos gave Kallan a questioning look. "It has to be Nala," he said. Kallan did not answer, and instead stared sightlessly at the cruiser.

"UNKNOWN POWER SURGE DETECTED," announced one of the gray Daleks as electricity began dancing on the edges of the cruiser. The wind began to pick up, swirling around the Place of Light as the white mist began to pool around the largest of the standing stones, encircling all of the Tolloc. It spurned both Methos and Kallan, for which Methos felt strangely relieved. Then the mist broke apart, settling around each Tolloc in a separate cloud. The nav lights on the exterior of the Dalek cruiser burst, and the true violence of the Quickening was unleashed.

The first lightning strike arced from the cruiser to the nearest gray Dalek, the one which had announced the unknown power surge. "ELECTRICAL CAPACITY EXCEEDED. I AM UNDER ATTACK! ASSIST! ASSIST!" But before the others could do anything, the Dalek exploded and the lightning arced onward towards one of the Tolloc. A second Dalek perished before the others had begun to respond, while one by one, this strange and bizarrely powerful Quickening was striking each Tolloc individually. First Iktha, then the other Elders, then the Doctor's friend Akain, then, one by one, the others.

"CEASE THIS ACTIVITY!" shrieked the Black Dalek, uselessly brandishing its weapon at the Doctor.

"I can't!" shouted the Doctor over the maelstrom. "Don't you see? This is something beyond you! Something you can't capture, enslave, or kill! And it's going to finish you!"

"RETURN TO THE CRUISER!" the Black Dalek ordered one of its lieutenants. A gray Dalek glided towards the ship, but was immediately struck by the Quickening. It gave out a curious screech before exploding, almost as if the mutant inside were in pain. Then Tosk came running out of the cruiser.

"COMMUNICATOR TOSK! STOP THE ENERGY DISCHARGE!"

"He can't help you either!" shouted the Doctor. "It has to run it's course!"

"SILENCE!" screamed the Black Dalek, becoming uncharacteristically frantic. Tosk had kept running in any case. The gray Daleks on the ridge abandoned their guard posts and began seeking a path down to intercept, but the Quickening blasted the side of the ravine before they could find their way down. A fifteen-foot section collapsed, bringing two Daleks down with it. They ended up face down and screeching in panic. Lightning danced across them and soon they too were silenced forever. The two remaining gray Daleks found their way to the ravine's floor and immediately went for the ship. The Quickening made short work of them. "TOLLOC! YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!" shrieked the Black Dalek, fury driving its harsh, synthesized voice as it realized that it was now alone. It began gliding towards the Tolloc to punish them, but by now they were all in the throes of the Quickening and far beyond noticing anything the Black Dalek might do to them. And then it was took late for the Black Dalek as well. The half-spheres on its lower portion began to glow, energized by the Quickening. "EXTERMINAAAAAAA . . . ." Then the lights on top of its head burst. It's last word became a scream, black smoke came billowing out of its neck grill, and then, finally, it too exploded.

Then, as if that expended the last of the Quickening energies, the maelstrom died away.

* * *

It was abruptly very quiet in the Place of Light. Vorna and Martin had managed to catch Tosk as he tried to make a break for it. The Tolloc had all collapsed to the ground, exhausted from what likely only their second Quickening ever. There were eight smoldering Dalek shells scattered around. Rising back to his feet, the Doctor shook his head sadly at the carnage.

Beside him, Akain stirred. "Are you all right?" the Doctor asked.

Akain nodded. "I think so," he said. There was a look of wonderment on his face as he stared up at the Time Lord.

"Here," said the Doctor. "Let me help you up." He extended his hand to the Tolloc hunter and hoisted him to his feet.

"Thank you," said Akain. He looked around the Place of Light, taking in the devastation and the damaged Dalek cruiser. The other Tolloc were getting to their feet as well. He smiled sadly at the Doctor. "I remember now," he said. "Nala gave herself for us, and in so doing, returned our memories to us." He gave a long sigh. "The Tolloc are no more."

"I think we'd better all talk about this," said the Doctor. "Come with me." He led Akain over to the three mortal Finders. Tosk had stopped struggling. He appeared stunned by what had happened. He would have some of the answers. "Adam! Kallan! Over here!" called the Doctor and the two Immortals joined the group, Kallan clutching his ornate Draconian sword incongruously to his chest, hilt up. "Iktha! The rest of you. Gather here." Though dazed by the Quickening, the others moved closer, with Iktha at their head.

"We know who we are," said Iktha. "You do not need to tell us, Shadow Walker."

The Doctor nodded. "Akain explained that already, but there are still questions to be answered."

"You bet there are questions," said Vorna. "What the hell was that?"

Methos answered. "That was a Quickening," he said. "It was unlike any I've ever seen before, but it was definitely a Quickening."

Vorna rolled her eyes. "Then how do you know that's what it was?"

"You'll just have to trust me," he said. "What's odd is that it normally only goes to one Immortal. I don't know why it went to so many, or why it specifically missed Kallan and myself."

Tosk spoke up abruptly. "You're not Tolloc, that's why."

"Yes," said Methos, "but what the Tolloc really are is Immortal, and the both of us are Immortal."

Tosk's eyebrows shot up. "Don't be absurd," he said.

"I'm sorry," said Kallan, not sounding a bit sorry. "Why else do you think I was so interested in them?"

"It doesn't matter," interrupted the Doctor. "Adam has a good point. Why did it miss him and Kallan? Tosk, why do you think?"

He glared at Martin and Vorna until they finally released his arms. "I was with Nala. She . . . she said she was going to . . . ." He sighed. "I'd better start at the beginning. The Daleks ordered me to integrate her with their Battle Computer so that she could predict the behavior of the Tolloc and yourselves. They were going to take care of the tactics themselves." Of course thought the Doctor. This would be roughly the right period for the earliest Battle Computers. "But she did something I didn't think was possible. She broke into the cruiser's main computers and took over the ship. Then . . . ."

"I see!" said the Doctor, suddenly enthused and quite oblivious that he'd interrupted Tosk. "It makes perfect sense! Nala was the Librarian. She was used to finding her way through a mental world. And of course the Daleks won't have perfected the system yet, so no doubt it has security problems. Yes!"

Tosk gave the Doctor a moment. "Are you finished?" he asked irritably.

"Oh, I do apologize," said the Doctor. "Please continue."

Tosk nodded. "Nala triggered an emergency landing. I ran to the flight controls, but stopped when a repair drone came out of its storage locker, uncommanded. Nala was controlling it. At first I thought she was going to cut herself free of the Battle Computer. She announced that she was going to join her people and told me to leave. I . . . "

"You obeyed," said the Doctor. "That's all right. Don't be ashamed."

He shook his head. "No, I fled. She was controlling the drone; she could've killed me. I disobeyed the Daleks and fled. But before I left, she . . . ." He shook his head again. "The Tolloc are pacifists. I never thought they could have the determination to do such a thing. She used the drone to cut off her own head."

The Doctor nodded. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," he said. "After that, there was a sort of mist. It headed outwards and I ran." He paused thoughtfully. "Nala was telling the literal truth, wasn't she? That was her, joining the rest of the Tolloc?"

"Yes," said Iktha, suddenly joining the conversation. "She joined us all. The prophecy said that we would decide our fate, but the choice was taken from us. Nala joined us the only way she could, through the Quickening. One of us had to die to end the circle. Because it was Nala, we have our memories again. We remember who we were before, and so we are no longer Tolloc."

"Then what are you?" asked Fixer Martin.

Iktha frowned. "I'm not sure. When we came here, I was a boy. I remember that now, but it's been so long, I don't think I can go back to that anymore."

"You can't go back," said Kallan. He sighed. "You're Immortal, Iktha. You all are. There's a lot you need to learn if you want to return to the rest of the human race."

"And what of humanity?" asked Akain. "I was a biologist before I became Tolloc. I remember a lot about human civilization. What has become of it?"

The Doctor grinned. "Earth is one of the dominant forces in the Galactic Federation. They've got faster-than-light technology, they've colonized thousands of worlds, and despite occasional border conflicts with the Daleks, things are pretty stable. The Daleks are mostly busy with the Movellans, after all. You'd like it. If you want to go back, I can take you there. I can take you all." He smiled at the Finders. "Even the three of you."

Methos rolled his eyes and groaned theatrically. "And I suppose the TARDIS will actually work this time?"

"Of course," said the Doctor. "I've repaired it." He turned back to Iktha, Akain, and the others. "So, what is it to be?"

"Doctor," said Kallan, "you do realize that the Tolloc - or whatever they want to call themselves - have a great deal to learn? They've been stranded here for two thousand years. None of them has ever had a teacher. They need to learn about the Game."

"Oh, must they?" asked the Doctor. "Hasn't it occurred to you that the Game is absurd? How do you know there's really going to be a Prize?" Kallan started to respond, but the Doctor cut him off. "And another thing: how do I know you're not going to just exploit them to strike at the Daleks in some insane scheme?"

Kallan looked steadily at the Doctor. "I will make the Daleks pay for Tarnak."

"You'd turn living, breathing people into a weapon without their consent?" asked the Doctor. "That makes you as bad as the Daleks."

Kallan opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it.

"Besides, it's too late. They're not the Tolloc anymore." The Doctor smiled sadly. "Their innocence is lost, and with it, their unique powers. Nala's not around to be their librarian, and I suspect they've lost their group mind as well."

Iktha nodded. "It really is over," he said.

"I'm sorry," said Kallan. "The Doctor's right. I had no right to do what I did. And I ruined your careers too," he said to the other Finders.

"Don't forget Savrek," said Martin. "He's dead."

"And so's Nala," said Vorna.

"It had to be," said Iktha. "It was prophesied. We didn't know what the choice would be, but we knew that the Finders would come and that you would come, Shadow Walker, with your friend. It had to be," he repeated. "Now . . . I don't know. I don't think we should stay here. Take us away from here, Shadow Walker."

He smiled back. "No problem."

* * *

In the end, they all chose to go to the Sol system. Vorna, Martin, and Tosk had never even seen the Sun before, much less Earth itself, so they asked to be deposited there. Kallan and the erstwhile Tolloc chose to settle there as well, aiming for one of the few remaining rural areas, an ancient wine-growing region in Europe which, in deference to tradition, still grew grapes the old fashioned way and could employ a few dozen willing and able farmhands. Kallan promised to teach them what they needed to know. When the TARDIS left Earth again, it seemed strangely empty and Methos remarked on the fact.

"Well," said the Doctor, "I suppose you get used to it."

"Do you?" asked Methos.

"Truthfully?" The Doctor sighed ruefully. "No, not really. So, where do you want to go now? I could take you to see the Braxiatel Collection. You'd like it; the best library and museum in the known universe. Or perhaps a visit to the Eye of Orion. It's amazingly calming. There's Barcelona, of course - the planet, not the city. So what's it to be?"

"Home," said Methos. "You promised to take me to Seacouver, 1997. 18 July, please, and you did promise round about teatime."

The Doctor smiled gently back. "That I did," he said. "All right. Seacouver it is."

-*** The End ***-

.

 _(c) 2016 Kirstin Jones/Calli Arcale, all rights reserved except those granted under the Terms of Service_


	12. Postscript

_Thanks for reading! I simply had to have some Daleks die by Quickening in one of these crossovers. -) So that neatly ties it up where the Daleks never find out about Immortals. (Yeah, I actually wrote this before Moffatt introduced the idea of the Pathweb that links all the Daleks. Anyway, I imagine this is far earlier in their timeline - probably close to "Death to the Daleks" in the Classic Who timeline. Dalek continuity is a little confusing...)_

 _You might notice quite a gap on the copyright dates on these stories. Since "Resurrection of Evil", I've gotten married and had two kids, which seriously slowed my output for a while. Now that my eldest is old enough to be publishing fanfiction herself (shoutout to Bayoboo!), I'm finally finishing things. This story took me about ten years to complete, and a few more years before I felt confident enough to post it to my blog. I'm now reposting it here on so more people can find it. (The earlier ones can also be found on The Seventh Dimension, which does not seem to be accepting new submissions any longer.)_

 _This isn't the end for this crossover series; poor old Methos is gonna run into the Doctor a few more times of course. Soon I'll post a short vignette that will transition us into the NuWho era, and then at some point I hope to write the next full-length adventure, which will bring in the Twelfth Doctor and Duncan MacLeod - of course we have to get the Scots together. -) For now, just accept that the Doctor finally got Methos home successfully this time, and then actually he let Methos get on with his life for a while._


End file.
